Masquerading Lies
by Faembrosia
Summary: Six guests, five innocent, four questions, three corpses, two suspects, one liar, no escape. And to think that nothing went according to plan. Dark Brotherhood:: Whodunit?
1. Summitmist Manor

_**Alright, I had got this idea a rather long time ago but I never acted on it because I had been writing other things as well. But oh well—here it is. Hope you like the thought. Please review, I'd like to know what you think.**_

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Summitmist Manor.

It had lived up to its expectations as far as I could tell. I stood upon the street parallel to it and with ample eyes I gazed upon the magnificence which pierced the sky and ascended to the heavens of the Nine. My body was tilting backwards just to get a good eye of the place. Elegant and gargantuan were the windows that peered down at me with a twinkle in their pane. The limestone packed together with such precision I hadn't thought anyone could have done a better job. Not ever the Emperor himself! As I strode up to the doors I held within my hands two items. One was a pack of the necessities that would be needed for this contest and the other was the letter granting me to take the place of my sister, Dovesi Dran, who had inconveniently fallen ill. I am her sister, Valora Dran; practically her twin. When I had arrived at her home to care for her, she had given me a key to a manor named 'Summitmist' she had told me that she had been randomly selected for a contest whose prize were riches untold.

Perhaps it was a sisterly link; nevertheless, I had promised I would take her place within the manor and if I were to find the treasure I would split it equally with her. I had truly hoped that I might indeed win to afford the expensive ointments and potions that would heal my sister. It was not the time of year that one had wanted to contract a disease of any sort. I had digressed and moved to the doorstep. I presented myself to the Nordic doorman and I had give to him the note from my dear kinfolk. Just as I had rehearsed, I flew through my speech. I told him precisely who I was, where I had come from, and under what conditions I had received this letter. I was fluent; however, by the look of it the attention-span of the elder Nord was a short one. He had taken one glance at the letter and then hoisted open the door for me. "... Well then, milady, I hope you enjoy your stay. After entering you will be unable to leave the manor until the contest is well over with. I do hope you have packed all that you need. It seems you're the fourth guest to arrive. I'll just let you in now; best of luck to you!"

I had humbly curtseyed before him and then entered through the manor doors escaping the draft of the afternoon streets. Just as soon as I had entered, the door had shut and locked behind me. It was an unnerving gesture, but I was certain it was just a precaution. My eyes turned upwards and I found myself with a loss of breath. The manor was just as exquisite within as it was without. I was overcome by the warmth of a fireplace and the smell of cinnamon as well as the aroma of freshly baked Sweetrolls. As I inhaled deeply the angelic scent I could practically see it waltzing through the thickened atmosphere. It pranced up the stairs which were placed just against the wall coming up in the shape of a dark 'V' hidden behind a wall of granite and banisters. With my bags gripped tightly within my hands I had glided up the stairs and rounded them to see a rather large second floor. Within the middle was a table and sure enough, there upon the surface was a plate of Sweetrolls. My stomach had been tempted and let off a yearning growl; however, I had ignored it. Hunched over the table was a heft looking Nord. Within his grasp was the handle of a tankard which I had assumed carried his alcohol for the morning. Beside him sat a weary and stern looking Redguard whose face wasn't the least bit moved by the Nords crude jokes or vulgar language. His fingertips tapped across the tankard he had which held water or possibly a soothing wine. Besides him sat a rather old woman. Her face wrinkled from the passing years and her grey eyes seemed almost frozen as she turned her eyes towards me.

She sneered.

Perhaps her eyesight was not very well and she wrinkled her nose and squinted her eyes to just get a good look at the Dunmer who stood many feet away—no, I don't think that was the case. Those condemnatory eyes rolled away from me and I attempted to ignore such a rude gesture. I stepped forward and the second guest to notice me was the Nord. He seemed to turn white upon seeing me as if I had reminded him of something from his drunken past. He placed down that tankard and shifted his eyes to me. "Well look 'ere! The fourth guest! It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," after this his speech began to slur like a ship rocking in the ocean. His hand had wrapped once again around the metal handle of his drink and he hoisted it to me as if proposing a toast in my name. "The name's Nels the Naughty."

My brow perched, "... Nels the Naughty?"

He chuckled and lowered his head. The shine from his cheeks gave off the sense that he was almost proud of that name. He tossed his eyes back up to me and cleared his throat before speaking, "Its 'long story. I'll explain it to ye later if I have the time." The Nord turned his eyes to a side and motioned to the Redguard, "This is Neville, he's a retired guard."

"I'm a retired _soldier_," corrected the Redguard who tossed his shady impatient eyes to the drunken Nord, "how 'bout you get your facts straight before you begin preaching them?"

Nels the Naughty swatted away the correction with a deep chuckle soon offering his hand to the old woman. "This old wench is Matilde. That's about the extent that I know."

The old woman puffed up with pursed lips. She grumbled below her breath and for a moment I had expected her rage to explode from her lips and a fight to begin. She seemed like a cynical old Breton and that was when I had begun threading my thoughts together as to who would be most likely to find the prize hidden within these manor walls. The Nord would be easiest to persuade—for I knew he'd be drunk half the time. The Redguard... Neville was it? He, too, would be of good use. I sheltered a compassionate smile as I had bowed my head humbly and presented them with my name, "... I'm Valora Dran from Vvardenfell; it's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Vvardenfell?" Neville had questioned with a lowered brow, "... you came a long way to partake in this contest. They must have sent you the letter a month or two before we received ours."

"Actually, it was my sister who had gotten the letter." My lips involuntarily fell as I had told my fellow guests, "She had recently fallen ill, so here I am to take her place." The Nord and Redguard both held sorrowful scowls upon their faces as they looked at me. Perhaps, pity was the way to their hearts. I held a hopeful smile as I had continued, "but don't let that discourage you. I'm sure we had all come for personal reasons."

I gave a short glance to the Breton to see her; unmoved. She was taking petite bites from one of the freshly baked sweetrolls upon the tableside. I might as well have said I was the incarnate of Mehrunes Dagon. Her façade would not have changed a bit. My lips turned downwards and that was when I had felt a hand pat my shoulder. My eyes broke from the Breton and from my skin I had nearly leapt. I whipped my head about to see the gargantuan form of Nels the Naughty hovering over me. He had a rather affable grin creasing his paled lips as he had told me in his guttural voice, "Come, I'll show you about this place. I've already had my share of exploring it."

Skeptic, but polite; I had agreed to his offer and away he had whisked me. Just as I had turned my back I felt those judgmental grey eyes for the hair upon the back of my neck stood upon end. I ignored it and carried on. Past the rough exterior and the rather repelling name—the Nord wasn't all that bad. He showed me about the place; open-minded and rather respectfully. From the looks of it I was the youngest guest and he had treated me as if I might have been his own daughter. His jokes were innocent around me; he watched his language as well. As he led me down a corridor in the basement I began to realize that my first impression of him began to dwindle into nothing before the kindliness and comforting atmosphere he had presented around me. He stopped in a subdivision of the basement and he had curled his hands into fists and placed them against his hips. I stopped a short ways behind him and looked about this rather small area. The walls bore nothing and it had seemed if there might have been something important about this area, but the owner of the manor had taken it out before allowing us, guests, to enter. I turned my eyes to Nels and saw the frown he brandished. I questioned what was the matter and he turned to me and openly showed me his frown, "... when I first came down here I had thought this might have been where the treasure would be. It seems fitting. But there's nothing here. This place... this entire room just seems so..."

"... so unnerving?" I had easily added after I could tell his mind was not producing the word that he wanted to use.

He repeated me and nodded. With a shrug of his shoulders he turned and led me out of the room. I lingered a moment after him, giving the granite walls a good glance. It was rather chilled down here and as my new Nordic friend had departed, it had appeared that my security had left with him. This certain room had sent unnerving chills across my spine. I turned hastily knowing I could no longer be burdened with this sense of trepidation and I had followed Nels out of the basement.

After a moment or so, he had led me up two stories to the bedchambers. He opened a door and showed me the chamber that he would be sharing with Neville. As he had drawn open the door and given me a sort of grin I had felt curious as to why he'd be showing me the place where he'd be sleeping. I giggled delicately to myself and then watched as Nels had turned and closed the door and then opened the one adjacent to it. The room was darker and quite smaller then the other and that was when he had told me what I had feared; "This will be the room you'll have... sharing it with that prude old wench."

I laughed at it and quickly quieted myself. Nels had chuckled as well smiling sweetly at me. I sighed heavily and walked into the room soon placing my bag beside the wall. Only at nightfall would I recognize which bed would be mine. For Matilde would more or likely push it into the corner of the room to make certain we would not be associated at all. Yet again had I pushed her from my mind as I had mumbled, "... I'm looking forward to sharing a room with that racist hag—" I tossed my eyes to Nels with a frown, "... excuse my insults."

He laughed at shook his head, "I don't mind it. Hey, if she don't like me then I don't like 'er. I think she'll just make this contest rather unbearable, that's my opinion."

After agreeing, Nels had led me downstairs just in time for dinner. We were required to fix our own meals from the food that was held down within the basement. I found this to be a problem, for I had never learned to cook from my mother. We had a maid and butler who had fashioned us our meals. I watched as Nels sat down before the fireplace mixing a sort of stew. The aroma overwhelmed me and my stomach snarled. I seized it swiftly as if it might as well leap from my stomach. Nels had smiled and fashioned myself a bowl. He presented it to me and by the fire we sat slurping our stew and conversing. Just as I was to question Nels about the recipe, I heard the jingle of knobs. My head cranked to a side and the door had opened revealing the fifth guest.

From the cold and rain from the outside world came a rather well-dressed Imperial. He stood erect with his arms folded behind him. An Argonian maid had bustled in next to him and placed down his baggage which included only one grand suitcase. It made a loud clamor against the rugs and as I strained my eyes I could hardly make out, etched within the gold of the suitcase, _P.A_. My brow lowered exceedingly and my first impression of him was one not to boast about. I heard Nels mumble lightly under his breath, "... why would a man like _him_ need to be a part of this contest?"

It was a rhetorical question; and I had agreed. By the looks of his fine attire and the maid and suitcase he had to be a wealthy Imperial man who came from an equally wealthy family. His golden hair glistened in the firelight and his face turned tanned in the dimness. For a moment he had stood there and finally, from the side of his eyes, he had realized that two of his competitors were sitting comfortably by the fire. His face lit up and he made his way over to us introducing himself as Primo Antonius. I had heard the name before when I had stopped during my travels to Skingrad to rest within a tavern. From what I had acknowledged, his family was a large estate owning kinfolk who made their wealth in trade. Nels had introduced himself and then me as if I had no voice at all. I had realized quickly that Nels enjoyed speaking and I allowed him to say what he must about me.

"... this is Valora Dran, very nice young girl. Don't you go trying to charm her now—I've already gotten an alliance with her."

I had been claimed? I laughed at the thought and turned my eyes upward to the wealthy young Primo who stood adjacent to me. The firelight tossed a shadow across his face, but even from the dimness I could see those piercing blue eyes on me. My cheeks faded to a gleaming violet as we continued to hold a gaze; or maybe that heat upon my face was caused by the fire that was just before me—I digress. Primo had given me a nod and whispered lightly as if he hadn't wanted Nels to hear him, "... pleasure."

I gave a nod back. "Pleasure is mine." He hadn't looked that much older then me. Possibly in his early twenties. At this point, I had been certain that he and I would be the youngest of the bunch. But that wasn't always a disadvantage.

Primo had left to meet the other guests as well as to find himself a bed. I turned back to Nels and thanked him once again for the stew he had prepared for me. It wasn't too long from then that the Nord had grown a yearning in his gut for his ale and grog. He had disappeared in a blur up the steps and left me alone by the fireside. I didn't hold a grudge against him for leaving me. I knew his urges for alcohol were serious. Afterall, he was a Nord.

It was stereotypical, but I had never met a Nord who hadn't loved mead and getting tragically drunk. I smiled through the fire and flames of the hearth and deep within the embers I was captivated. I thought of Morrowind and my family there. I thought of how my sister was depending on me to win this contest so I might aid her to her full health. I couldn't imagine returning with at least a few Septims in my pocket. My eyes narrowed exceedingly as I thought of the consequences and disappointment that would follow if I returned to Morrowind with nothing more then what I had left with. Oh, the shame I would feel. My heart cascaded deep within the pit of my chest and I heaved a sigh as I heard Matilde's voice shatter through my concentration;

"The sixth guest has finally arrived! Well, it's about time! Do you know how long we've been waiting? It's seems like an age! Whoever invited us here must at least know us, don't you think? In any event we're all stuck here together, so we might as well get acquainted."

My heart sped beneath my chest as I had heard the old hag speak. My head cranked and blinded from the brightness of the fireplace, I had stared over at the door for more then a minute. Colors finally became tangible and shapes had formed before me. There, standing in front of the door, was indeed the last guest. To my surprise, it had been a man! The clothes of the man had finally formed from the dimness of the room and his attire had been one of higher standards compared to the other guests—besides young Primo, that is. I eyed him easily seeing the rainfall that had covered his being. His hands moved furiously as he had wiped down his drenched tanned flesh that had been exposed to the tears of nature. He hunched for a moment then became aware of that eager old hag who had approached him. His disposition towards her was quite kind compared to my own as I had just recalled myself calling her a hag.

His lips coiled upwards into an amiable grin and he had bowed his head towards Matilde as if she had been more significant then him! I watched as her shoulders shrugged in and I could immediately tell that her cheeks were rosy from the flattering gesture. He mumbled something to her and she had given off a hearty laugh that sounded to me like nails across a blackboard. She swiped her hand at him and mumbled something back off at him soon turning and aiming her wrinkled rigid finger up at the floorboards of the second story. Just at that gesture, I heard Nels making his way across the floor. His laughter was strident and I had smiled effortlessly as I heard him and the retired Legion soldier carry off into one of their many disputes. I turned my eyes back to Matilde who had pointed at Primo who had satisfied himself with a book from the shelf and then she turned to me. As her eyes had met mine there was a spark between us—we both sensed it, I knew. She hesitated for a moment before breathing my name—my cursed Dunmer name. Painted upon her visage I saw a plastered smile as her lips had flapped to the letters of my name.

I tore my eyes from Matilde and glanced to the sixth guest. After giving a look around, he had turned his eyes to me. He smiled that harmless and rather compassionate through the dimness of the room and hastily he had turned back to Matilde with eager eyes as she had told him something while patting him upon the shoulder. He had bid that wench goodbye and hastily she shuffled off with her head held high. I rolled my eyes as I knew that gesture he gave her from before had only inflated that ego of hers. I turned back to the fire and hastily I had lifted my spoon and shoveled a bite of the stew into my mouth. I swallowed and sat back giving the fire my whole concentration as I had done before. Alas, I had kept one of my senses tuned to reality as I had heard my Nord friend burst out with a brilliant laugh, "So here we all are!" said he and I turned my eyes from the fire to look up to the floorboards of the second floor. "... it must have been storming rather well just before you came. Come, sit and share a tankard of mead with me!"

"Is that all you ever think about? Perhaps you should start thinking about the chest of gold," I heard a displeased Neville mumble off.

Nels laughed heartily and lightly I had heard the soft patter of mead against the innards of a metal cup. He poured two glasses. "Tonight is a night for introductions! Does the Legion lapdog not know what its like to have some fun? Loosen up!"

"Fun?" Neville had sounded offended, "This entire contest seems queer to me. I'll loosen up when I'm certain of this place."

A third voice had called off and I knew it wasn't that of Primo for he had secluded himself in a corner with a book nestled in his hands. It must have been the sixth guest, I was certain of it.

"Oh, come now," he had said. His voice was that of an angel. It was rich and Colovian accented and possibly the sweetest I had heard. It sent chills down my spine and forced every tensed muscle to relax. "Indeed it might seem queer and rather suspicious all together—but we are all here and there's no way out besides finding that chest. Good luck to you, men. May the best win the grandest of the prizes!"

"Here, Here!" Nels called out.

It was silent for a moment and I had only pondered what this scene might have looked like. A skeptic Neville hunched over a table looking warily at a tankard of mead while the sixth guest and Nels clanked together their drinks heartily with arms embracing each other's necks. I had smiled and then came the voice of the Legion solider, "... yes, I suppose... you're right."

Laughter had ensued and time had slipped from them and even I as I sat separated from the rest. I sat alone. My skirts were heated by the hearth and I had placed down my empty bowl upon the vacant seat neighboring me and with that gesture I had rocked backwards and then propelled myself to my feet. My eyelids felt heavy as if weighed by lead and the weight of the sands of time. I could only imagine what time it might be. Later then what I had usually been allowed to stay up past. I skipped the two or three steps and rounded to the stairs and just before I had turned I had glanced back to Primo. Hardened was his face and his fingers were agile as he had flipped the pages of a book. It had almost appeared as if his own fate was etched into the parchment of the tome. I lifted my head and with it my voice as I called out to him, "... Goodnight, Primo."

His eyes leapt from the words and he had bid the same to me with a faint smile soon returning to his read. Surely, he must think of me just the way he thinks of the rest of the guests. We are but commoners to such a regal person. Nevertheless, he was polite enough to bid me goodnight. If it were the hag—yes, I think that was what I would refer to her as; brilliant thought, Valora—I am certain Primo would have dismissed her with a regal sneer and a wave of his regal hand. I twittered at the thought and leisurely I had climbed the stairs to the second floor. As I glanced round the corner, just before ascending the second flight of stairs to the bedchambers, I had pondered the thought of bidding goodnight. My insecurity had burdened me and I thought of all the men merely looking at me. Would they think me as childish for wishing them a goodnight—surely it would remind them of a little daughter kissing her father goodnight before heading off to bed. Maybe, I would just slip...

"... Valora, don't you tell me you're heading to bed this early!" Nels' thunderous voice carried through the limestone stairwell and nearly had it burst my ears.

Curses, my plan had been foiled. I heaved a sigh and shut my eyes for a second allowing that time to rest before turning about and heading out into the open where all eyes were upon me. It was a rather uncomfortable state to be in. "It's been a long trip and I am sorry to disappoint, my friend, but I must retire to bed."

Matilde, who had been sitting at the same table as the men— far from Nels, mind you — had given me a look of despair. Oh, pity that, hag! Woe is you, for when you retire to bed you shall sleep by _my_ side! The beds had been picked, how unfortunate! I glanced to Nels who had nodded frantically almost to the point where his forehead had slammed against the rim of his tankard. "Indeed, indeed..." his head spun about and he smiled eccentrically at the sixth guest, "... she came from Vvardenfell! All this way for a little contest!"

"Had she now?" the guest glanced towards me and I had immediately established a gaze with him. It had easily rivaled that of Primo and I. "I had come from Morrowind, myself. Indeed, I'm not a true local—but I had moved there some years back for occupational reasons."

My brow perched. "Oh?" My eyes tossed over his face and absorbed every detail. Every curve, every dimple, every feature that one might observe. He appeared as an Imperial, not quite middle-aged yet not as young as dear Primo. He had the loveliest of grey eyes situated just below two straight eyebrows that were lowered to some extent. He had a certain... flair... a flair that would captivate many and leave all a victim. It was in his face mostly, his sharp chiseled face. His chiseled _handsome_ face. My heart childishly fluttered and I had calmed it with a smile.

"Indeed," he nodded while lifting his glass to examine how much was left. Satisfied with the amount, he placed down the drink and crossed his arms upon the table. "Luckily, I had just moved back to Cyrodiil in time for this contest. I had lost most of my riches transporting myself and my goods to my new home—hopefully this contest will pay its rewards generously so I might..." he paused and his coiled lips pursed. His face lit up and I could tell he had been searching for the words, "so I might pay off any unlikely debt I might still hold. You know; as I think of it—I had never introduced myself properly to you, apologies." He had chuckled while lifting a hand to caress back a few raven strands of hair from his face and back into his oiled hair. From his chair he had lifted and turned to me stepping a few feet closer.

With each click of his heels against the floor I had felt that fleeting smile broaden over my lips. He offered his hand and with a pause I had taken it. He shifted my hand within his grasp and lightly he held upon the end of my indigo long fingers. They rested against his coarse palm as he had bowed gracefully and sighed off his name, "Arthur Maupassant...—you must be Valora Dran, then, hmm?"

With a nod, I had given my answer. I curtseyed respectfully and beamed at him, "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."

"No need for the formal designation," he chuckled deeply, "Arthur will do just fine."

Arthur... I had whispered off; Arthur. What a lovely Colovian name for a lovely Colovian man. His etiquette was that of a first class citizen and yet he had addressed us, commoners, and even showed us hospitality and compassion that a simple Brother or Sister of a Chapel might exercise. It was refreshing to meet such a nice crowd of people—excluding Matilde. I bid them goodnight once again and with a last glance to Arthur—who _had_ been watching me—fondly, I do hope!—I had journeyed up the stairs and found my room soon pacing to the bed, undressing, situating the sheets and slipping beneath. I had been skeptic of this place just as Neville was, but after these last few hours I had found myself in good company. These next few days would be a splendid experience, I just knew they would be—and with that final thought I slipped into a slumber; waiting eagerly for the new day!

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_Loredas, Day One_

_I arrived at the manor. Farnir had made certain I had the correct thoughts before entering the manor. We share the same Mother; afterall, it was only wise to bear his words of advice. But there is something amiss, he said; something wrong. One of the guests had exchanged their place with a relative. No matter... the contract would be fulfilled either way. I do believe these next few days would be a... a splendid experience. I say goodnight to you—dear reader—for it is nearly past dawn, and tomorrow we start the hunt for the "treasure", the greedy bastards have no thoughts besides satisfying themselves. What a week this shall be.__ Watch as I wear a masque of lies, once again, my friends. Watch closely now. Watch closely. _

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**Read and Review! I do hope you liked it... **


	2. The Pendulum

_**Thank you—everyone—who read and enjoyed. I just want to let you know I'll be adding a bathroom on the third floor because... well... there's no bathroom and there needs to be a bathroom just to make it more practical. I hope you enjoy!**_

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When I had woken from my bed, I raised reluctantly just as everyone else might have. My first thought of the day was Nels waking with bottles of mead tucked under his arms. I smiled at the thought and finally lifted from the bed abandoning the warmth that I had left there. I put my feet on the bitter floor and hastily I had lifted not minding if I made too much noise for dear old Matilde. My senses were not yet awake and when I had lifted they swirled about and caused me to stumble in my first steps—no matter, I had stepped out of the chamber into the corridor and shuffled my way down to the bathroom at the end of the hall. The atmosphere around me was eerily silent. I couldn't imagine what time it was. Before dawn, I had presumed. I listened to my own breathing whisper off into the morning as I closed and locked the door soon bathing in a marble tub filled with the warmest and most calming of waters. I sunk beneath and wholly submerged myself allowing that water to soothe me head to foot.

As I took this time for myself, I eagerly questioned myself just where could that chest be? I believe Nels might have been on to something. That dismal basement was the source of all my suspicions, perhaps it was hidden behind a moveable wall. Or maybe, there was a candlestick that needed to be turned and from the wall the chest would protrude! Or maybe... there was no chest at all and the jewels and septims were merely hidden beneath the floor! Oh, the thoughts that came to mind! That chest could be simply anywhere! I lifted from the water and dried myself off with a linen towel before draining the tub and heading off. Just as I had opened the door, I had nearly leapt from my skin and so did Arthur who was before me. His eyes widened and for a second I thought they were to pop right from their place! He let off a gasp and after recognizing who I was under the raven mess of my hair he had chuckled off lightly.

"You frightened me, Ms. Dran," he had whispered.

"_You_ had frightened _me_!" I grinned back. The once splendidly oiled hair now a dark ruffle upon his head with one or more strands swooping across his eyes. I had restrained myself from reaching forward and swiping them back over his ear. "I suppose I better move out of your way then, wouldn't want to be a bother."

I shifted my body and slid past him gripping my towel tightly—wait. I... I had been in my towel? My eyes tossed hastily to my towel and the water that dripped just below it and tumbled across my legs. My cheeks flamed and I hadn't the nerve to face Arthur now as I had realized this! Such shame and humiliation befell my shoulders as I had let this stranger observe me with just a towel wrapped around my figure. My ears perked as I had heard him chuckle and whisper back at me before stepping into the room overflowing with billowing steam; "You're of no bother, Valora. Good morning, by the way."

I came to a halt in the center of the corridor before turning back and giving a glance to Arthur. The door had closed gently and blocked my view as if to tell me to just return to my chambers and get dressed. I lingered for but a moment to think of that gracious smile lighting his sharp face. It was a pleasurable image to think of at the time. My hand lifted to my hair and pushed back the clinging stands over my ear. As my fingertips kissed my cheek I felt the warmth radiating off them. I returned to my room, finding myself a nice change of clothes before heading off downstairs to fashion myself a breakfast. As I skipped the steps I had drawn my hair back and away from my face. I thought over the concept of creating a breakfast for both myself and even Nels. It was, afterall, the least I could do for him being so kind to me yesterday. If the correct ingredients could be found, I might be able to fashion him a remedy for the overshadowing effects of the consumption of so much mead the previous night. I think he might truly appreciate—

I came to an immediate halt at the bottom of the second stairs as I gazed over to see _it_. For a moment, I was not allowed to think as I saw it just there—my mind still lingering on the steps. As my mind caught up to me, I had distinguished the scene before me. Hanging from the rafters of the right subdivision of the room hung a taut rope. A pendulum it had mimicked as it had swung back and forth ever so slightly. Suspended from the ground a few feet was the drooping and lifeless body of the solider, Neville.

I stood here for a full second just watching his corpse swing back and forth ever so gently. The noose wrapped round his neck caused his limp head to tilt to a side. His eyes were wide and the whites of those haunting eyes could be seen from across the room. Here I stood. Gawking at his dead body.

_Dead_? ... Dead... He was dead.

I still stood there with widened eyes and all of a sudden this piercing sound came from the pits of the abyss. I never glanced about to find the noise. I was mesmerized by this man-made pendulum. What was that noise? ... It was me. I was screaming. I stood there. I stood there _screaming_. The Nine provided me with a blindfold of tears as I wept so loudly like an infant abandoned. My feet shuffled backwards and my palms lifted to my lips to hush that noise. That frightening and devastating noise. Why was I _screaming_? I heard the clatter of boots against wood above my head. It circled around me like these thoughts that burdened my head. Steamy tears rolled down my cheeks and from the corners of my mouth I could taste that hint of salt. Finally, I heard a voice.

"Dammit! Valora!" Nels had boomed as he came toppling down the stairs and grabbing me into his arms. Even as he had nearly tackled me into the other flight of stairs I still watched Neville. Neville watched _me_. His expansive rotting eyes were fastened upon mine. But he was dead. He was dead. "Valora! What is the..." I didn't have to look up at Nels to realize he saw it as well. His tightening grasp began to diminish and he had gently cursed under his breath. I turned my head into his chest and started weeping.

Neville was dead? My mind continued questioning me. No, no, he's not dead. It's all a joke. All a sick trick. Stop playing tricks, Nels! No one—no one is laughing! ... Neither are you... why aren't you laughing, Nels? It... it was a joke. You're supposed to laugh... when someone plays a joke.

"What was that bloody racket?!" I heard Matilde shout as she had rounded the stairs as well. "... God's blood..."

She saw him.

I kept holding onto Nels, my fingertips dug through his ale-soaked tunic, but I still clenched onto him. Explain this to me, Nels. I had wanted to tell him. Tell me what happened... what happened, Nels? I don't... I don't understand! Neville... Neville was here for the gold! He was considerably and... and reasonably content with his position in life. Had... had he found the gold and someone... murdered... him... I don't understand, Nels.

I just don't... understand.

-+-

No one had searched for the treasure.

No one had even spoke. We all had acted as if no one was there watching us. Primo had attempted to read his story, but he would always stop after a few words. His eyes looked too heavy. I could only imagine what feelings were hidden behind that regal attire. Matilde was up within our room... I... I think she was. Neville's body had been placed down within the basement within that division that had seemed so queer. We attempted to forget this day as we sat in this eerie silence. Arthur had sat at the table attempting to eat a meal but he couldn't get himself past a few bites. His once lovely grey eyes now seemed so dull with uncertainty and fear. Nels and I sat across from Arthur. Nels had collected many bottles of mead and sat them before himself. He marveled hungrily upon their amber gleams and easily he had slipped into that Nordic typecast where he would drown within alcohol.

I sat by him almost frightened as I watched him down his four bottle. My brow had lowered and I watched him almost longingly. I... I didn't want to admit this to him, but I felt so afraid. I felt like that little Dunmer child lost within a grove. My cries were silent but they were being screamed through this shattering heart of mine. The question had arose within me; could Neville have been murdered? I didn't dwell too long within the question in fear of the answer that may protrude through this wall of security within me. Who would it be, though? Who could have murdered the soldier? My eyes were tossed to the Nord beside me and curiously I inspected his arms and torso. The muscles under his skin bulged as he had shifted his arms. I saw his neck tense beneath that layer of porcelain. Could you have done it, my friend? Could you have?

But then... there was that sense of sadness in his eyes. That sense of perplexity... possibly it was just me, but there was something buried deep within the past of the Nordic man named Nels. My hand crept across the tabletop and ever so lightly I had placed my hand over his before he could hoist another bottle into the air to place its rim upon his lips. His head cranked my way and we locked eyes. No words were needed. Only a touch upon the hand. My eyes shifted between his and I could see my own reflection in the glitter of his eyes. My hand had lifted from his ever so cagily and while tilting in my chair I had wrapped my arms around his neck and placed my chin in the scoop of his neck and shoulder. He sat there like a statue as I had embraced him. His mind had finally caught up and he had left his bottles alone as he had wrapped his arms around me. He constricted me and buried his head into my neck. I felt the warmth of mead against my neck. We lingered like this for the longest of time until finally we were interrupted by a hoarse and demanding voice, "... you murdered him, didn't you?"

Nels and I parted to look towards the stairs to see young Primo. His eyes were fastened upon Nels and daggers were tossed the Nordic man's way. I overlooked Primo and wondered just what he was thinking at this moment. The question I could hardly inquire of myself was asked ever so candidly by that Imperial man.

"... What are you going on about," Nels had slurred. I heard the clatter of wood skidding and I tossed my eyes to the chair that Nels had just pushed himself out of. The drunken man had shuffled his way past the chairs. His hands shoved them aside and he approached Primo, hovering a foot or two over him with solid iced eyes that held no emotion for this Imperial man to decipher.

Primo puffed up and he held his head high as he had barked, "You know damn well what I'm talking about, Ker!"

"... Primo... Neville committed _suicide_..." Arthur had said ever so weakly from my side. I had glanced his way for just a moment. He sat hunched with a long ashen face. He was just as rattled as everyone else.

"Neville was not in the depths of despair," Primo had snapped at Arthur before turning back to the Nord. "The man's fingernails were shredded apart! He attempted desperately to free himself of that noose he bore. I believe he had been murdered."

"Oh, and I'm guessing you're blaming me, huh? Little Primo is suspecting the Nord... I might be a barbarian by that Redguard's standards, but I will never result to murder!"

Nels made his advance forward and at this time I heard Arthur leaping far from his seat. He separated the two men and pushed them aside with the base of his palms. Arthur whipped his head hurriedly around between the two as he had sputtered almost incoherently, "... Gentlemen... Gentlemen—please... violence will solve nothing here. The current event is startling and tragic, but we must—stay—strong!" He gave a shove to his palms again forcing the men back.

I watched eagerly at Primo and Nels as they continued to hold an undivided and rather dreadful gaze. Chills ran across my spine and just as I was to call Nels back to me, the Nord had shoved Arthur and Primo aside with one swoop of his arm and he had stumbled to the stairs. "I've had enough of your rubbish... I'm... going to bed." He slipped up the stairs and I heard him ascend hoping he might beckon me along.

I sat there feeling like that child yet again as I listened to my friend slip away into the darkness of his heart. The door had slammed and I had turned my eyes back to the table before me. My lips began to seal and I knew no more words would come until the next morning. Deep within me I had wondered why we hadn't just left and contacted the guards to come and take Neville's body away, but it was then that I realized that there was no way out of this house besides finding that treasure. For the key lay within those riches. At this moment, I slowly brought back the thought that we may actually be in one giant death-trap. It was an omen that this mere thought had tossed violent trembles across my spine and I knew that I shouldn't think of that.

... for the good of myself.

... for the good of Nels.

Poor Nels. My eyes tossed to the stairwell and I heaved a heavy sigh imagining that Nord propped against his bed with a bottle of mead in his hand.

"... Valora?" my named was needles to my ears and I turned hurriedly to see the dull grey eyes—the compassionate grey eyes.

"... Sorry," I muttered swiftly.

Arthur gave a shake of his head and waved off the apology. "No, no it's fine. I just... well, you looked rather reclusive. I had just wanted to make sure that you were alright."

_You shouldn't talk to him,_ I told myself, _confide yourself only to those worthy of trust. _I turned my eyes from the kindhearted Imperial and demurely I told him, "I am fine."

"Are you sure?" he prodded while sitting himself within the chair where Nels once sat. I eyed the piece of furniture and suddenly the once comely and sympathetic essence it once had now disappeared like a teardrop in an ocean tide. "... You... you look startled."

Oh, do I now? I had snarled sarcastically to myself. A man had been _murdered_. Do you expect for me to be as chipper as an Argonian near the waterfront? "... I'm fine," I reminded him with a slightly more agitated tone.

"Valora," he sighed my name which sent another roll of shivers down my back. My eyes closed and I turned my head away. Through my own lashes I could see a half-eaten sweetroll lying supinely there before me. I felt those grey eyes upon me; however, I refused to return the gaze. All of a sudden, I felt a slithering warmth cross over the back of my hand that was placed idly upon my knee. My eyes tossed to it and I saw the tanned skin of Arthur's hand. My skin gasped lightly and I watched as his fingertips lightly caressed the back of my hand. I looked up at him; finally, and he had told me, "... Valora, I want to reassure you that if you ever get frightened here to come find me. We have safety in numbers and you're one of the people I would least like to see be hurt."

My heart fluttered and cooed lightly at the compassionate phrase, but my lips parted and I whispered, "... you think more people will be hurt?"

Arthur's brow perched and I searched his eyes furiously. His lips paused and he had almost appeared to be shut-down, as if he were some machine. Finally, his eyes lit and he had smiled kindly to me and replied to the inquiry, "... I am certain all will be well. An accident has occurred and it was unfortunate that Neville had passed on—even more so that your dear friend is being convicted of the crime! I could hardly imagine being considered a murderer."

"... Neither could I," I whispered with a shake of my head. Poor Nels, I thought, poor sweet Nels. I gave a short glance back to Arthur who now gazed off at a distant object. Sweet Arthur, I thought, how kind and caring he was to us. How submissive he was to a fight and how knowledgeable he was. I envied his composure and how he reacted to such a calamity; still, I wondered to myself: Maybe... Arthur is just as frightened as the rest of us.

My hand had turned palm up and lightly I held the Imperial's hand. Our fingers entwined and hardly could I wrap my petite indigo fingers around his firm thick hand. With this gesture I had brought back his attention to me and we both shared a smile. From a distance, a clock had sung its song. It chimed with the beats of my heart and the turning of time had almost frozen us in place. After the chimes had concluded their song, I heaved a profound sigh and told Arthur truthfully, "... it is getting late, I... I better head off to bed now."

"... Would you like me to guide you there?" He questioned thoughtfully.

I chortled and waved off the question. "It is only an ascent of stairs, Mr. Maupassant! I shall be fine. If needed be, I would find my way to Nels room—I wouldn't want to trouble you during the night—"

"Oh, it would be no trouble," he reassured me.

I nodded and while withdrawing my hand from his, I had risen. As customary for a noble man, he had rose as well and pulled back my chair. I gave him a smile and with a head lifted high I had made my way to the stairs and smiled, "... Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Ms. Dran." I heard him say.

With that I had ascended the stairs and rounded the corner to my room. I had repeated my ritual and into bed I slipped and from the worries of the world and the concerns of this contest I had disappeared and within my own paradise I had dwelled.

-+-

_Sundas, Day Two_

_Under unfortunate events I had found that blasted Redguard all alone. He appeared mostly drunk. He slurred his words when he called out to me and soon he swayed—just a few feet below the balcony. He was a struggle, but was nothing compared to the other things I have faced. He wept when I tightened the rope round his neck. He pleaded as I tied the rope heavily against the railing and with sympathetic eyes I pushed him over the __edge. SNAP! His neck broken. His body dangled. The Redguard, Neville, was no more! __As I write this I'm having the most beautiful epiphany, mother! The most beautiful thought you could send upon this blackened heart of mine! But alas, your next guest__, Mother, __shall send confusion and a twisted gut of uncertainty through the very foundation of this home. __Yes... but I suppose one must reap what they sow, don't you think? I look forward to what morning brings to us._

* * *


	3. Rest in Peace

-+-

I couldn't sleep for too long that night. I tossed about my bed with thoughts of blood and tears waltzing across the surface of my mind. The emotions within those dreams felt so real. The earth-shattering screams of homicide had swept through the air; tracing through the walls. Blood ran like rivers through the cracks of alabaster stone of cemetery statues. Blood seeped through the eyes and ran straight to the grass and soil where the bodies of the dead lay. I awoke around midnight and from then I knew I could not sleep. Warily, I glanced about the room to see that Matilde had sectioned us off. Her bed was nearly pushed up against the wall with a dagger hiding under her pillow. I could easily tell that this radical precaution was for me more then it was for anyone. I felt sadness dwell for but a moment in my heart and just as easily as it had come it had perished. Silently, I shifted from my bed and in my nightgown I had made my way across the hall. A draft of night overcame my feet and chilled me. My arms embraced me and I lightly pushed open the door that was adjacent to my own.

The door welcomed me with a heaved sigh and I entered. My eyes strained as I searched the darkness. In my mind I had the image of what the room looked like. It was so vivid. But the image ran like wax and I was blind. My toes stumbled over all sorts of trinkets and articles of clothing. My hands searched before me like a beggar might. Finally I had come across that which I had come here for. My palm fell over one of the posts for a bed and I had smiled in the dimness. Inching my way further I had found a mass beneath the sheets. As my fingertips touched it, it stayed idle. I gave it a firm push. From the depths of my throat I had beckoned, "... Nels... Nels, are you awake?"

Just as a noise began to echo off, I had realized it was his profound snoring. He lay there like a boulder sheltered with layers of sleep. Not even Daedra could wake this slumbering beast. I made one last attempt to awaken him, but I did not prevail. Within the darkness I remained alone. My friend was not conscious to abate the storm that brewed within me. A part of me was gleeful at his deep and peaceful sleep. The other half had felt that same pitiful feeling that I had back within my room. My heart fell within my chest and I was left to wander alone. I turned my back to Nels and carefully I made my journey to the door. My hands reached forth and I inched my way nearer. Finally, my fingertips brushed against the oak and I exited the room. Lightly had I closed the door allowing my friend to rest in peace.

When I turned to my door, I saw coated upon its visage a discriminating hatred. I had not looked forward to returning back to the dreams of fearful things. What other choice had I had? I stepped closer and just then, I had an epiphany. My ears perked and my head spun about to the door at the end of the hall. It was encased within the shades; nevertheless, I could still see the door. Arthur, I had told myself. Arthur had given me the option to come to him when needed.

Oh, but Valora, he had meant at reasonable hours! You cannot just disturb his sleep because of your childish dreams.

... But he had wanted me to be safe. I do not feel safe within that room with that old hag.

... Oh, but I just couldn't intrude upon him in such a manner. It is entirely improper for a woman of...

I stopped the thought.

I was no _woman_. I was but a child. I was a mere teenager who was frightened. If anything, Arthur was now the father figure of this manor. Fathers were there to protect their daughters and provide them with happiness and love. Right now, all of that sounded splendid.

I shuffled my way down the hall; cagily. The blackness that nipped at me foreboded sinister things, but I continued. My arms were curled into my chest as I went. My heart was whispering its life into my ears. This would keep me from thinking of the worst case scenarios. Here I stood before the door that would lead to a night's rest. As I looked upon the face of the door I had felt a bit of shame. _How dare you think of your__ needs __before others_! My mind had told me. I pushed the thought from my mind and vigilantly had I jiggled the handle. The door pushed open and I slithered in. I repeated the same process as I had in Nels' room, except this time I had made certain to find the correct bed. For in Nels room he had slept alone. In this one, Primo and Arthur had rested their weary heads. How was I to locate the precise bed where Arthur was? I was not sure.

I carried on and finally found my way to the first bed. My hands planted themselves upon the sheets and instantly I felt the kiss of silk. I drew back and laughed quietly to myself. This must have been Primo's bed. I was surprised he did not bring his own room with him. Like death, I had crept away from the bed and stalked onward. After a few steps, I had stumbled onto the second bed of the room. My toes plunged themselves onto the wood and I had nearly let off a gasp. Luckily, I had restrained myself. The bed gave a quiver and the sheets shifted. The oak of the cot gave a groan and I had imagined that Arthur began to awaken. My eyes searched the darkness and I stood there, idle, waiting for movement. My breath lingered in my throat and when no response had come, I stepped nearer. Just as I was to drawn back my lips I thought something awful. What if Arthur had thought me to be the alleged murderer?

Preposterous, I answered that question. My hand fell upon the sheets and swiftly it found the mass of Arthur's shoulder. My head had slowly fell and I thought for a moment that I would cascade over the sheets and sleep upon him. My mouth pursed, I whispered to him in a hiss, "... Arthur, are you awake?"

The blindfold of darkness began to infuriate me as I searched for his face. How close was he? Was he even awake? These questions all burdened my mind. I heard the scrape of material against material and the bed had domed in for a moment. Just as I gave thought to it, I heard a hiss and a blinding light had shot into my eyes. Desperately, I clenched my eyes shut. The silhouette of the light burdened against my eyelid. As I began to refocus, I opened my eyes to see that a candle had been lit. There sitting erect in bed was the wide-awake Arthur. His hand hoisted the candle into the air to shine against my face. I focused upon his eyes as he looked at me; troubled. "Are you alright?" He said louder then a whisper.

I gave a thought to the fact that we might awaken Primo. "... Yes—well no, in a way I suppose." I turned my eyes away and looked at the tip of the candle where the flame danced. Already from its base did wax begin to bubble and roll down the golden shaft. I turned my eyes back to the Imperial. "It was just... I have not had the most... simplest time getting to sleep." His eyes were frozen upon mine. Was he not satisfied with my answer? "You had said... earlier if I ever needed anything to come to you. Well, I was wondering... perhaps... if it wouldn't be a bother—"

"Ms. Dran," he started with a furrowed brow, "what are you suggesting?"

This had no longer seemed like such a simple thing. My mind mauled over the thought just a bit more and gently the guilt of awakening a man from his sleep just to comfort me seemed so disgraceful. Surely, if I were to just attempt to sleep again then I would drift back into those innocent dreams simply. Had I been thinking at all? At this time, I stood there with a blank stare. When I had come to, I laughed gently and whispered, "... I... I was frightened."

It was difficult to admit to a stranger like Arthur such a fact, but it was needed. I looked at him with narrowed eyes. I waited for a cynical retort or possibly a dismissal, yet none had come. The man's brow perched and he let off a gentle, 'oh'. His head whipped around at the sheets, he had looked as if to find something there. His hands ruthlessly shoved back the sheets and quilts and he leapt from the bed soon bolting across the floor. From the corner of the room, he found a chair. It sat lazily before a desk. It spun within his hands and with a graceful step he had waltzed with said chair. As it turned upon its legs, he had sat it by the bedside. He fell into it with a rush, nearly toppling it over as he went. A sigh was heaved and those generous eyes had tossed to me. With a hand, he had waved me on.

Had he wanted me to lie? I was a bit hesitant; nevertheless, I had leisurely found myself crawling over the lumps of quilts and pillows. I turned to Arthur and before I could even usher a word, he had silenced me with a hush. "... I will watch over you. Perhaps a presence of a friend shall give you more will to sleep peacefully," he had told me.

I observed him for a bit. Not in a queer way—mind you. I gave him a smile and I turned my face away. Was that a blush upon my cheeks? At this moment, I could not have cared. I situated myself by tucking a pillow between my arms and lying sprawled upon my stomach. My nose skimmed the material of the down pillow and from it I could smell the sweet fragrance of Arthur's oils and cologne. I breathed this in deeply, only hoping it would dwell within my lungs for all eternity. Upon the curves of my legs and back, I felt the sheets cascade over me. Just like a fresh fall of snow. The warmth that had resided here previously overwhelmed me. I shifted to my side and watched as Arthur reclined within his chair. The chair sounded off. _Creek!_ It had said.

Slowly and attentively, I overlooked this sweet man. A smile still played on my lips as I whispered to him, "... shall you watch over me all night then, Mr. Maupassant?"

His arms lifted from his sides and folded across his expanded chest. His eyes were droopy and I could tell he would slumber far before me. "Until you sleep, that is. Is there anything I can do for you until then?"

I shook my head as the response. He gave a head nod back and reclined even more. After a moment or two, I had begun to maul over this man. How sweet and gentle he was for a stranger. Not that many people took kind to the Dunmer race. His disposition towards me made me respect him more then I had the others. Even possibly Nels. "... How come you are so sweet?" I asked diffidently.

Arthur's head perked right up and he looked at me; befuddled. His brow fell over those lovely grey eyes. (They shined ever so beautifully in the light, you know. Like crystals.) He gave a sniff from his nose and snorted with a laugh. After he had become composed, he held that same undivided gaze with me as he had done before. "... How can one not be so sympathetic to those who have not faced death before—I only assume... you haven't."

I shook my head. Indeed my great grandparents had passed away not a month before, however, I am certain that is not the same as what he speaks.

"I only worry that these tragic events might haunt you. As I had said before, your safety matters more to me then anything right now. _Even_ the gold."

My heart sang a delightful tune and that smile on my lips broadened like a horizon. Within this moment, I had forgotten all about Neville and what fate befell him. Oh, how my heart sang! I nestled that loving pillow within my arms. I glanced back to Arthur and saw that he beamed as well. Oh, Dibella! Could it be? What a sweet plan you have written! We bid each other goodnight and the unexpected had happened. I fell into a deep sleep and no longer did the demons of the night haunt me. For the brilliance of Arthur burdened away the doubts and fears, and at last he allowed me to rest in peace.

-+-

It seemed as just when I had closed my eyes that night they were drew open to the morning. My body was well rested and I drew the first breath of the dawn. It expanded my lungs and flowed like streams through my body. I was alive. For so long it had seemed that deep within me a part of me was dying. I lifted back the sheets and shufled my legs out. From the bed I lifted and strolled to the door, minding the parcels and furniture as I went. The base of my palms lifted routinely to my eyes. They rubbed away the sleep and with a shoulder I had nudged my way out into the hall. Immediately, I had noticed that there resided no warmth here. Its hands released me into this fall draft. Chills ran their courses down my spine, but I had ignored it. To the shower I had made my way. No one was there—this had surprised me quite a bit. I had expected people making their ways, bustling about.

... But no. Perhaps that is for the best. It would be foreboding terrible things if that hag Matilde and I were to fight over whose turn it were. I could scarcely imagine the moment. I closed and locked the door making certain that an incident like yesterday would not happen. If it were Arthur, I would not mind as much. However, if it were Nels, I am certain that he would not only intrude upon my bathing. He had his bit of... well... naughty times in the past with a wench. I bathed swiftly. I waited not a moment. I did not linger within my imaginations or my juvenile questionings. I exited the water and treaded lightly. After drying, I had covered myself in a second dry linen towel. I exited and found no waiters standing before the door. Something seemed rather off now.

Just then, I had remembered that I had not seen Primo in bed when I arose. Perhaps I woke up later then I had thought. I returned swiftly to my own room. When my palms pushed that heavy door open, I had revealed to myself a bittersweet scene. My feet lingered within the puddle they were drenched in as I looked in upon the room. My left hand still propped against the door. At first, no emotions came—but then my mind had caught up. Why it had always seemed to tag along after me was beyond my own comprehension.

My luggage had been disemboweled and its entrails—my clothing choices and personal items—scattered across the floor and even my own bed. My sheets, torn back, were showing the outline of where I used to lay. My eyes shifted across this view. Cagily, I stepped in. I examined the severity and after a second glance I had began to spit off scolding curses. Matilde did this—I knew she did. That old beggar whore! I snatched a few articles of clothing and thrusted them upon me. I cared not for if they had matched or not. I was wrapped within the thought of confronting Matilde. As I twirled my hair back into a braid, I had leapt from the room. I was a youthful fawn prancing down the stairs. My eyes were hardened with strife and I twirled upon my tiptoes nearly colliding with Primo. He staggered back and I heard him call behind me, "... Careful now!"

I spun down the last step and there I saw Matilde standing near the bookshelf. A book grasped within her wrinkled hands. Her eyes lifted to Arthur's eyes and I saw a sickening sweet smile pull over her lips. Was she trying to charm him? Was she trying to get a good disposition with him to turn him against me? Bretons... treacherous racist swine.

From the corner of my undivided gaze on Matilde I had saw Arthur. He attempted to say, "... Ah, you've finally—"

"What did you do to my room?" I snapped into Matilde's face. Sorry, Arthur, I had not meant to interrupt your lovely greeting. Forgive me, my friend.

The old hag piped up. Her brow perched sending a wave of disgusting wrinkles across her forehead. She laughed at me for a moment. She _laughed_ at me. "Eh... Excuse me?"

Excuse you! _Excuse _you! How dare you! You know what you did! My mind was shrieking at me to spit out all these things, but I was wiser than that. "... My room—my side of the room is in disarray. My clothes—everywhere! My belongings discarded like... like... _trash_!" My voice barked and I felt my cheeks flame. I would look nowhere else besides that old woman's eyes. Her _innocent_ eyes. What rubbish!

"I'm... I'm sure I don't know what you mean, Valora." Matilde had the nerve to smile benevolently at me.

The hands of my heart tried so furiously to shatter through its cage of bone. They wanted to strangle the life from this hag! My hands trembled by my side as I had composed myself and retorted, "... Don't be coy, how could you miss my side of the room being _completely_ turned to a hovel!"

"Now, Valora," Arthur chimed in with the voice of angels. "There is a logical explanation for all of this, I'm certain."

"Indeed," scoffed Matilde who had given him a smile before turning back to me. That smile was replaced by hatred and condemnation. "Don't go around pointing fingers when you don't even have your facts straight, sweetie."

She turned from me. No more could I take this bigotry. My hand flew forward and seized her shoulder. A leathery layer of skin just lightly lying upon her old crooked bones. How simple it would be to break said bone. My grasp tightened and I forced her back to me. My voice no longer housing equanimity. "I _wasn't_ finished with you!" My voice shattered through my teeth and made her shrivel into a piteous raisin. Her body had convulsed when I barked this at her. The power within my voice felt so... good...

Harshly upon my shoulders fell guilt—no, not guilt. This was corporeal. This was bulky and firm. A hand fell on my shoulder. "... Yes, Valora, you _were_," Nels. It was Nels behind me.

My head spun to the side and my eyes cascaded up to the hunched figure of the Nordic man. His fatherly gaze fell upon me. It held contempt. Contempt for my actions. A frown creased my lips—but Nels. Nels, you do not like her either. Why do you protect her now? Should you not join my side, my friend?

"I'll handle this now, Nels," I heard Arthur say; my eyes were still latched upon Nels.

"Piss off, Arthur. I have a few words to say to the girl. Just go back to your own business." The Nord had snapped while tugging my shoulder back.

My hand loosened and drooped back to my side and I had looked to that old hag just to see what her expression was. Matilde had retracted and held her arms up near her bosom. The whites of her widened eyes shone brightly in the dimness. Like lighthouses. I turned back to Nels to see him with his head cocked back. He turned soon striding up the stairs and disappearing behind the curve. I gave no glance back to Matilde as I pulled up my skirts and skipped the stairs. I heard the shutting of the third floor door and I made my way up. I hoisted the door, quietly, and stepped to the threshold of the Nord's room. Within the middle of the floor, he had stood with a hand held to his brow. His back was to me and as I stepped into the room, I heard him shove a sigh out of his lungs. He twirled upon his heels and tossed a glare at me. It struck me down and I cringed as he stormed to me. His feet sounded off like thunder against the wooden floor. "What the hell were you thinking, Valora?!"

"...W-what?" I stammered; blinking frequently.

Nels' nostrils had flared and he shook his head profusely. "Dammit, had you not been listening at all the last day? Primo had suspected one of us murdered Neville—next day you are jumping down an old woman's throat shouting some nonsense about a trashed room! You are giving them proof to their reasons!"

My eyes narrowed and I scoffed, "... surely they won't believe that I could have possibly..."

Nels gave me a hard gaze. My lips became taut and I listened as he had groaned, "... Valora, you... we... we just need to be careful from now on. The sooner we find that damn treasure chest the better. This house... it's a great big pit of despair."

My head lowered. How could I be so juvenile? My shoulders fell and then I felt the guilt set in. It was gentle at first but bore deep within my pores. How shameful I was. Even that old woman did not deserve such hatred from a Dunmer of my youth. I gave a sigh and looked up at Nels, "... thank you for stopping me when you did." I sounded defeated, so defeated.

The Nord gave a nod and smiled at me. A hand ran through his long fair hair as he purred, "Anytime, my good friend."

I gave him a last nod and just before I turned to leave, I beckoned him. "Nels..." he perked up, "... why did you tell Arthur to piss off?"

His expression flattened and then suddenly laughter burst from his throat and he lifted a hand to his eyes as he wiped away a few fresh tears. He walked closer and nudged me, "Oh-ho-ho... he was telling us how you came to him last night," my cheeks reddened.

"... and?" I urged.

Nels shrugged and looped an arm around my neck. "Well, quite frankly, my friend, it really irked me. Why didn't you come to me?"

I laughed and pushed him away, "I did! I suppose you hadn't heard my callings over your atrocious snoring!"

Together we laughed and proceeded downstairs where together we searched for the treasure chest. We bore no thoughts to the eyes that watched us and wondered why we were as cheery as we were. We were merely together and enjoyed one another's company.

-+-

Time flew through the window and here Nels and I were still looking for that treasure. The moon peeked through the windows watching our progress—or lack there of. Nels had swigged on a mead bottle as he rushed around. I watched him as he tipped over chairs and laughed. He put them back in their place and bounded up the stairs. In the corner, I sat with my back against the wall. My eyes were so heavy with the heat of the fire lingering on them. The base of my palm propping up my heavy head. Bounds of black coils cascaded over my face and shoulders like a blanket. It absorbed the warmth of the hearth and here I rested. My thoughts ran away and only this serenity stayed. My eyes closed and I fell into sleep for but a moment. Maybe two, I did not know.

As I sat here—hunched here—I remembered this time long ago when I was but a child. I leaned against my father's chair watching him do paperwork for the trading offices. I sat there huddled—just like this—I sat there and looked at the fire with the same eyes. When I breathed, my lungs fluttered and expanded just enough to break apart my chest. I let that breath go and began to reminisce. There was so much comfort here. I wondered if anyone ever felt like I did now. My mind was becoming wax with the weariness that burdened me. I shifted a little. My feet were beginning to prickle with numbness. I shook it off and looked back to the fire. How long would this contest last? Who would win? Would we keep in contact after all of this? These questions, and more, had suddenly overcome me as I began to drift away.

I could not remember much after that.

Perhaps I had fallen asleep.

All I knew was when I awoke I was huddled in a ball against something firm and fluttering—ticking... not fluttering. My eyes, they were so heavy. I could hardly hoist them up to see what it was. My body shifted a few times and I felt the warmth of skin against my calves. At this thought, my eyes opened and I saw that I was huddle against Nels' chest. His heavy feet trudged up the stairs and he carried me in his arms. His chin was against the top of my head and his arms looped under my skirts. I sniffled for a moment and rested my head back against his chest. I was so tired... too tired to thank him and too tired to ask him what he was doing. I just coiled there and allowed him to take me away.

I heard a door open and then close. A second open and then close. Just as I had become serene again, I felt Nels hunch over and soon I was lying upon a bed. I shifted and looked up to Nels as he pulled the blankets of my bed over me. He minded not of my cluttered room—I could tell. I bet he had seen far worse in his days. That same smile creased his lips. Friendly, it was. Friendly and fatherly... like Arthur's smile. My face wrinkled as I pushed the sleep away from me. I opened my mouth to speak but the words were asleep in my throat. Nothing had come.

Nels hushed me. Even as a barbaric Nord, the man had quieted his voice and sounded just as sweet and innocent as a lamb, "... Goodnight, Valora."

I gave him a smile and watched as he turned his back to me and walked out. He closed the door lightly as he went. As if he was afraid to awaken me anymore. Sweet man, that Nels was, sweet man. He was almost as sweet as Arthur was. My arms lifted into the air and soon cascaded and hit the bed by my head. I looked up to the ceiling and as I actually _attempted_ to rest I was burdened so much with wakefulness. Try as I might I could not fall asleep. What irony that was. My eyes were wide and tossed all about this room. I looked up at cobwebs. I looked over to the carvings upon the walls. Everything here was so quaint. I enjoyed it here. I really did.

I lifted from the bed and made my way around the room picking up my things. It had peeved me to some extent when my things were out of order. What if someone tripped over them? What would they say about me? They would call me a slob, that's what! I packed my things, tidily, back within my luggage. I folded my skirts and garments and placed away my fragrances so they would not be shattered. Within a matter of minutes the place was neat. I lifted and overviewed this progress. I felt rather proud of myself as I gazed upon this achievement.

"... Oh, you're still awake," a voice shattered from the silence around me.

My heart skipped a beat and I cranked my head around to see old Matilde enter the room. My brow lowered and I greeted her with silence. It had not bothered her, though. I had wished it would to some extent. I turned back to my luggage and shifted it to line up accordingly. She glided past me and made her way to her own bed—that still was shoved against the far wall.

... As I began to think... I realized how wrong I was earlier to snap at the old woman. Indeed, she was not nice to me at all. Nevertheless, did that give me any right to express the same hatred to her? I gave a sigh and attempted to hush that voice. It is not easy for one to admit that they were wrong in their actions. I glanced over to Matilde and with the courage of a mudcrab, I muttered, "... sorry."

She turned about with a wrinkled face. Her eyes squinted and her nose wrinkled up as if she had just smelled the odor of a dying warthog. "... Beg pardon?"

I turned fully around and ignored that sudden trepidation. "... I said I was sorry, Matilde. I didn't have the right to... to speak with you like that earlier. Forgive me—I just... I did point fingers and... and I'm sorry."

She stayed quiet for a long time, which left me feeling ashamed. Was there to be no forgiveness from this woman? Had she hated my kin that much? Finally, she gave a sigh and smiled at me ever so faintly. Her shoulders fell and she looked, in a way, defeated. "... No, no, sweetie, I am sure that this... this is both of our faults. We both have been rather nasty to each other these last few days. It... I've never really known a... a _Dunmer_... to be—well—civilized."

I'm sure she had not meant it in that way. "What do you mean?" I questioned, composedly.

Matilde began twiddling with her fingers as she began to explain, "Where I grew up, my father and mother were at war with a Dunmer clan. They had brought me up believing that the Dunmer were not to be trusted...for... for they would rob you blind... and so many more things that are awful. I suppose these last few years I began to inherit that same view... Valora, sweetie, forgive an old woman of her foolishness."

"Only if you forgive me for my disrespectful behavior," I had told her with the faintest of smiles.

Together we had agreed to wipe our slates clean. By the morning light, we would be new people and together we would work and make this experience as enjoyable as possible. We had climbed into our beds and bid each other goodnight before resting. I closed my eyes and let that weariness from before swallow me. Perhaps, things would go much more smoothly then they had before. I could only hope... I could only hope.

-+-

_Morndas, Day Three_

_Perhaps I should tread more lightly. I had expected them all to take the Redguard's death as merely a suicide. However, they had caught on that it was not just that simple. Damn. I can hardly believe that these imbeciles had been more intelligent then I had thought. Oh well, it will not be long now. Their suspicion will rise, but not against me—oh dear Heavens, no. They shall blame one another. Just today, Valora had broken from her shell of wariness and shot down that old hag as if__ she might have killed her herself!__ The guests__ began whispering just as that drunken Nord pulled her off. __Too easy this will be—just too easy. I want that damn Nord gone as soon as possible__—in the most agonizing of ways, as well__... his mere existence is quite annoying—truly, it is. All in due time, I believe, all in due time.__ Mother, does this son of your make you proud?_


	4. Framed

-+-

My eyes opened to a dark scene. My breath became heated and I realized I was face down into a pillow. I groaned as I shifted and greeted the coldness of the new day. That first profound breath had breathed life into me and I began to plan my day. Certainly, everyone would be glad that Matilde and I had let bygones be bygones. With everything now cleared, we could all search for that chest! You see, everything had been difficult when we were all bickering and walking on eggshells around one another. I was rather certain that the bond Matilde and I were beginning to form would be the catalyst for others. Like, Primo and Nels for example, or Arthur and Nels. You know, I thought they were getting along swimmingly—but I suppose... not.

I cleared my throat and shifted onto my side to look at Matilde. She was lying supinely with her head tilted back. Darkness still dwelled within the room and it was difficult to make out any details about the old Breton woman. However, I was not that interested in what she looked like in the morning. My body pulled tight and my muscles contracted as I stretched. Oh, how it allowed the life to flow so much easier through me! My hands clenched and—

There was a mass in my palm. I nearly tossed it across the room as I thought it to be a rat or some sort of creature that might have slipped through the holes of the walls. I brought it close to my face—which did not seem like a good idea, but I never thought of what was right or wrong when I was curious about something.

My eyes squinted and I tilted the object towards me to get a good look at it. At first, I thought it to be a spatula or some sort of spoon. I giggled at the thought and wondered if Nels had played a trick on me after I went to sleep. Then... I gave it a second glance.

It... was not... a spatula.

Moreover, it... was not... a spoon.

My head leaned even closer and I brought up my second hand to touch it. As my fingertips encountered its side, I found the surface to be dampened with a sticky substance. My face cringed and I turned my fingertips to me. Their pads rubbed against one another and I pulled my fingers apart. By the Nine, what was this? Confusion ran across my face and I hardly the time to think of anything. I lifted myself from bed and stood up holding that peculiar object in hand. Matilde... I am certain she would know. It was nearly dawn; she should be waking up soon anyway. My feet shuffled forward and I neglected my path by turning my eyes to that object. I shifted it in my hand and just as I reached Matilde's bed, I leaned down and whispered, "Matilde... are you awake?"

As I hovered over her, something was amiss. I could not put my finger upon it, but I knew there was something wrong. Matilde had not answered me. I had not expected her to, anyways. She sleeps nearly as hard as Nels! I turned and set down the object upon a small end table near Matilde's bed. I shuffled through the drawer with furious hands and eventually I came across a little box of matches. I smiled and slid one out from its container soon striking it. It hissed and a brilliant light shone. I winced and once my eyes adjusted to such garish light, I leaned towards a candle and just then, I glanced over to Matilde wondering if—

I screamed. I screamed and I tumbled backwards... I think. I cannot remember. I cannot remember what happened. I fell back and held up my hands. They were shaking... quaking... they were buzzing with horror. Upon my fingertips, I saw just what I had seen upon Matilde.

Blood.

There was so much blood.

The room began to spin and I could hardly keep myself steady as I lifted and stumbled nearer to Matilde. God's blood... what was... what was...

Her eyes were wide and staring up at the ceiling. The whites. The whites were _just like Neville's_. "God's Blood," I heard my cracking voice sputter. "God's... b-blood."

I began crying. I think I did. I think I was crying—I do not remember. I can never remember. What was there to remember? Where was I? ... Matilde... Oh, God's Blood, Matilde. There she lay. The once beige sheets now the darkest of rubies. Her throat was split to halves and blood still seeped across the gash. Her mouth was wide and she looked... she looked so _scared_. Thick globs of blood had collected across her chest and... and...

God's Blood! I turned to the end table to see a dagger drenched with blood... _her_ blood.

I turned my eyes back to my hands and saw the same traces of blood—no... was it I? How did I get the dagger? Were there even weapons within the manor? By the Nine, what have I done?!

No, Valora, no... It was not you. You had not caused this. Calm yourself.

I felt warmth roll down my cheeks and from the corner of my lips I tasted that bittersweet taste of salt. I had been crying. My mouth ripped open and I heard that piercing sound again. I screamed. Dammit, Valora, if someone sees this then they will think you had done this! Calm yourself! ... Oh, Matilde. Who could have done this to you?

_It was you, it was you, it was you, it was you, it was you._ Stop that! Stop that! It was not me! I had not killed that hag! I did not kill her! I felt more tears roll over my tongue as I stumbled back and sat upon the edge of my bed. My eyes were plastered to the scene of the dead woman before me. I wouldn't admit it, not even really to myself, but her dead body... her body laying _there_... it was so intriguing. The rubies captivated my eyes. Those sinister rubies. My lips fell apart and my breath heaved between them as I just stared in awe. Tears plunged past my eyelashes. They tickled the smoothness of my cheeks and then cascaded down my neck.

The spell upon her body was broken and I glanced off. I needed to leave. I needed to fetch Arthur... or... or Nels, maybe Nels. Nels would understand. Or would he? Would he suspect me? No, he was my friend. Arthur was my friend.

_Do not trust them!_ Dammit, I _need _them. Stop thinking that. Stop with the cynical thoughts!

... Yes, Nels would understand, I think.

I stood and just as I thought I was moving to the door, I found my fingertips touching Matilde's neck. My nails seeped through the gash in her neck. It opened like a mouth and swallowed my fingers. My heart shrieked in horror as I desecrated her corpse. I could not help it. There was a side of me that had been so enraptured with her death that I... I had to feel her slashed neck. I felt her cold meat squish against my fingers. I heard the sloshing of blood as it spurted over my knuckles. My eyes cringed but I pushed deeper now. I felt the bone. Terror swept through my arm. It struck me like lightning now. I ripped my fingers from the abrasion and backwards I stumbled. Blood gushed from the hole and I was revolted. A felt salt upon my lips and this time it came not from the tears I shed. A drop of blood danced upon my tongue and I hastily leapt forward and wiped my hands upon her sheets. My stomach churned and for a mere moment, I thought myself to be sick. The blood... I needed to get the blood off... if anyone saw me with blood... they'd suspect... they'd blame me!

I rushed about fixing my bed. I hid the dagger. It quivered in my hand as I looked for a reasonable spot. Where would no one look? The cupboard—God's blood, Valora, you are an imbecile! Wait... wait. I twirled about sending my dresses up in a fury. Yes, they knew where, too. I knew it. I made my way to Matilde's bed and with all the strength of my right hand—my dominant hand—I sliced open the side of the mattress. The entrails crept out in the form of down and cotton. I took my other hand and scooped them out soon tossing them on the ground. I dug further and deep—I sliced when needed—I did what I had to. When the hole was hollow enough, I jammed the dagger within and then hastily picked up the fallen entrails. I sliced my finger when shoving them back in, but that didn't matter. It just didn't matter. I shoved all of it in then covered it with the sheets. No one would see that, right? No one would suspect—maybe Arthur. He was much smarter than I. He would figure that out. However, he would understand... he always did. He understood parts of me that not even I did.

I trembled and stood back up soon making my way to the door. I was slow. I shuffled my way. My hands entwined as they shook. Shook with utter fear. My breath was choppy and my eyes still dripped with tears. I made an endeavor to calm myself as I walked to the door. I stopped before it and merely stared at its visage. By the Nine, I felt like vomiting. Whom should I go to first? Not Primo... he would be the first to suspect me. Nels or me, I know he would think that. Arthur... possibly Arthur. But Nels... what would Nels say?

I felt like pulling back out that dagger and ending myself. I _felt_... but I would not act out upon that. I hadn't it in me to cause such harm to myself. I took a deep breath. It felt like it would shatter my lungs, but it felt so splendid. I slipped out into the hall and shuffled my way to the door that led to the main manor. My gut was twisting within me. I felt so much like vomiting but I feared that there was nothing there and instead I would vomit a mixture of my blood and that taste I had of Matilde's. ... Oh, by the Nine... Matilde.

No, no... Valora... No. You cannot start blubbering now.

I stumbled down the stairs and already I heard hearty laughter coming from my Nordic friend. He had been drinking again, I was sure of it. Primo would be reading his book. Arthur would be sitting down listening to Neville and Nels bicker...

... Neville...

...Matilde...

That was when it had struck me. That lightning. That same trepidation. There _was_ a killer. Primo _was_ right. It was not me. I knew that much. Arthur? Heavens no, it was not him. Primo—maybe... he was an intellectual wealthy Imperial man. He could be using this contest to entertain himself. He _had_ admitted that he was bored. What better way to keep adrenaline rushing and minds racing then to kill off lesser subjects? ... Could it be Nels? He was a Nord. A barbarian—a drunken barbarian. Neville could have wronged him that night and Nels could have killed him. Intoxication blinded him and he knew not of what he had done. As for Matilde, he could have felt that she had wronged me and when I went to bed that night, he could have slipped in and finished the job.

Stop thinking this. Stop these thoughts.

"... Valora?" My attention shattered and I my legs turned to jelly.

I shook in my place and looked up to see Arthur. He looked so handsome in the morning light. So fresh... so pure. He had not seemed so worried over me; perhaps the shadows of the stairwell preserved my dampened cheeks and reddened eyes. "Y-yeah?" My voice cracked. I spoke lightly. I did not want Nels to hear me.

"You alright?" Arthur took a step or two forward. He stood at the end of the stairs looking up at me. His eyes... those loving eyes.

_Hold me, kiss my forehead, rock me in your arms—Arthur please, she's dead. She's dead, don't you realize this? Can you not tell?! _I had wanted to hiss this at him. However, no words came from my lips. They quivered and smacked against one another. I bit them down but that evoked rush of emotions flooded to my eyes. They began to water and I just stood there. I must have looked like an imbecile.

"... What're you doin' over here you rotten old bas—" Nels rounded the corner with a tankard in hand. The greatest of smiles graced his lips. His cheeks were red with intoxication. About this time, I could not suppress my feelings anymore. I began sniffling and whimpering. My chest was heaving and my shoulders raising and falling like tides. Nels cocked his head and looked at me and just about that time, the tankard slipped from his hand and the mead splattered to the floor. Nels shoved Arthur away and leapt up the stairs yanking me into his arms. I wailed. "Valora!" Nels gasped embracing me so tightly to his chest. "...Valora... what happened?"

I buried my face into his chest and screamed. I think I screamed. My legs went numb and I collapsed but it seemed no burden to Nels who merely held me there. My nose ran and tainted his tunic; my tears slipped over my cheeks and ran into my wide mouth. My hands extended forth and seized the back of the Nord. I cried. I did not hide it now. My back was heaving and I would not answer. I heard feet colliding harshly against the floorboards and then I heard Primo. He came to Arthur and asked what was wrong. I hardly heard him over the hushing of Nels and my own cries. How pitiful I was. I had not even stuck to my plan... what a fool... what an honest fool.

Nels tried to pull away and after a few attempts, he succeeded; however, I refused to look him in the eyes. "... Valora," he purred, "... You hafta tell me what's wrong... I can't help...I can't help... unless I know."

"She's _dead_," I nearly boomed. I spat a little with my words. An assortment of saliva and tears brimmed my lips. Everything was quiet now as I spoke, "... Matilde is _dead_. She was... was...she..." My face shriveled and I slammed myself back into Nels' chest.

I was swept off my feet and dragged backwards, soon after, I had heard feet bolt up the stairs. The door was slammed and it was only Nels and I. I was so afraid. My heart screamed out of my chest. I felt it beat against the walls of Nels' ribs. The nausea constricted my throat and I closed my eyes and attempted to calm myself before I had gotten sick. I was afraid they would blame me. That seemed to be the inevitable. The door opened yet again and I heard Primo whisper with the faintest of voices, "... Septim's throne..."

"... She's right..." Arthur mumbled off.

From the comfort of Nels' arms I was ripped and shoved forward. I tumbled down the stairs and hit the wooden floor upon my knees. I heard the hem of my skirt rip and I felt a shock of pain flood my thighs. I yelped in fear... and... and _pain_. Bolting down after me was a red-faced Imperial, "The... the blasted harlot killed her! She murdered Matilde!"

I winced as Primo attempted to swipe at me, but he was quickly embraced and tossed aside. Nels hunched over as he shoved the man away and boomed, "How _dare _you blame her for this! Can you not see the child shivering?! She's _terrified_!"

"... Because she's afraid we'll figure her out!" Primo snarled back. I sat there in stupefaction as I watched these two men bark at one another. They puffed breaths into themselves to grow in size, but not all the breaths in the world would make Primo as big as the gargantuan structure of the petrifying Nord.

My eyes were wide and I was frozen. I saw Arthur standing there idle in the background. He was as startled as I was. ... Or maybe it was a reflection of myself I saw. Primo came back and spat at Nels violently, "We all were down here! Who else could it possibly be? Valora murdered Neville and Matilde—STOP PROTECTING HER!"

Primo's voice shattered through the air. I felt my own eardrums throb and slowly I felt tears beginning to seep through my lashes once again. I began whimpering and I curled into a ball upon the floor. Here I was safe. I protected my soul with a hardened shell of myself. Their words could not get to me. Their hatred and discrimination could not lash at me. How was I to protect myself from such accusations? There was silence—apart from my heavy breathing and whimpers, that is.

"... Primo," I heard Arthur purr. "... I'm convinced that there are numerous theories."

"Like what?" Primo boomed yet again.

I uncurled from my ball to look at Arthur; longingly. Save me, Arthur Maupassant, save me from them. I was trembling all over. My heart tried retreating to the farthest section of myself. My eyes grew wide as I took in this scene. Arthur had turned his eyes to the floor and stood there quietly. His eyes searched the ground and when he looked up he let his shoulders fall in defeat. Could he not think of a plausible excuse that I would not kill anyone? I gave up hope and a sigh escaped...

"Do you really consider that Valora could put to death a heavily trained soldier of this realm?" Arthur crossed his arms and stood there looking positively cynical.

I turned my eyes over to Primo to see him standing there befuddled, "... She—she could have seduced him!"

"He didn't find her attractive." Arthur replied.

I felt a little ache to that truth—but it was needed. "And just how would you know?!" said dear Primo.

"She's just a teenage girl, Primo. Neville was a man of strength, morale, and integrity. As for Matilde, I heard them conversing last night before I went to bed. They were letting bygones be bygones. Now," Arthur walked towards me and offered me a hand. I gazed up at it shocked with stupor. Hesitantly, I reached my hand forth and guided into his palm. With a rocking forward-then-back motion, Arthur heaved me up and straightened my dress, minding not of the blood on it. "... have you, Primo, given any thought that our Host or Hosts have set us here for a reason?"

When no answer came from the younger Imperial, Arthur had said, "... I believe that there is a secret... compartment, if you will... in this madhouse. I think our Host brought us all here to eradicate our existences. It seems rather unlikely, but perhaps after all of this I will gain your trust enough to believe me."

"... What shall we do then?" Nels gasped weakly.

Arthur placed his hand upon my shoulder and told us all of his plan, "We need to stick together. If you must leave anywhere, do not leave without a friend. No going to sleep alone, no more drinking alone, no more reading alone, we shan't do _anything_ alone, is that agreed?"

Nels and I nodded furiously; however, it took Primo a moment or two to respond. Reluctantly, he had nodded and then it was settled. Nels and Primo sat at the round table on the second floor, minding themselves. Primo was reading. Nels was... doing what he had always done. Just as I was to join them, I felt Arthur tug back upon my shoulder. I cringed then looked up to him.

"Come," he said, walking to the staircase. "You will need to freshen up."

I could not have agreed with him more. Together we had ascended the stairs. From his room he had fetched me a clean linen towel and lightly pushed it into my hands. "Here, go soothe your nerves. I will collect a few articles of attire from your room—I'm sure you wish not to enter there again at this moment in time."

I shook my head. Oh, God's blood, no. I had not even wanted to be on this level of the manor right now, but the presence of Arthur had calmed me. I huddled the linen towel to my chest and when I looked up to Arthur, I could not help but leap at him. I heard him cough as I plunged my head into his chest. I wrapped my arms tightly around him when he had stumbled. He held me back just as tight. I closed my eyes as his embrace constricted me. I felt all my worries and fears slip from me with a mere breath. I cascaded into serenity. This sheer bliss was just what I had needed.

I felt billows of hot breath fall across my shoulders and neck. It sounded off just like a beating heart. Oh, how wonderful it sounded. I bit my lips as a rush of emotions ran over me andI made certain Arthur would neither hear me nor see me cry. I would not allow it.

He chuckled and nudged the top of my head with his chin, "Well now... what brought this on then?"

There are many things that I wished I could have said at that moment. My lips were quivering something fierce and that hardened lump had crawled right back up my throat. No, you mustn't cry. Not before him. I continued to hug him. As I lingered here within his arms he had rocked me back and forth and caressed my bare arms and back. His touch warmed my frozen flesh and his breath brought back verve to me. How alive I felt when I was near him. How perfect I felt. I had not wanted him to leave me. "Join me in the shower, Arthur", I had not _said_ this, mind you! ... But what I would have given if he had agreed. We swayed here—danced here—where we stood. Firm in our foundations we were. Unmoving. Stationary. "I want to thank you Arthur," I had finally croaked. My voice sounded so hoarse and broken. "I want to thank you for being there for me when I needed someone. Your presence means... much to me."

Silence. Utter Silence.

I did not even feel Arthur move. He became a statue merely holding my tattered body. Not even his heart could be heard now. My brow furrowed considerably and I cocked my head up to see what was the matter. My shoulders rolled back and my neck cranked. My misty eyes widened and I looked up upon the man's face. He looked much older now. His face was a ghostly likeness of its former self. His lips were parted and just beyond his tongue I knew he housed so many words that he left unsaid. His expression troubled me. It looked neither flattered nor saddened. It just was blank.

Blank.

After a moment's time, my gaze had evoked an emotion. From the corner of his eyes I saw the lustrous gleam of tears. He rushed a breath and tightly he had embraced me—much tighter than before. I gasped a breath and took in the feeling of his torso pressed against mine. True that my arm felt little comfort in its current position—but I could not have loved this moment anymore then I already had. I nuzzled Arthur's chest so amorously. The faded fragrance of his cologne stung my nostrils, but I had not minded. I pulled my head away just enough to mutter off a light-hearted inquiry, "... what brought _this_ on?"

I heard him chuckle faintly into my shoulder. My only response was a blossoming smile that gleamed over my visage. My hands patted at his back and I waited for more then a few chuckles. He finally lifted his head and beamed at me. Tears lingered on his lashes and tainted his tanned cheeks. He seemed so brilliantly joyous behind that tearful façade. He shrugged his shoulders and gave a grand sniff before replying serenely, "... Frightened... just... frightened."

My brow perched as I heard these words.

Arthur was _frightened_.

How very queer. I mean—certainly no one could be a great epic hero who is never worried or swayed by anything—and of course I mean that in the politest way to the men of this house who thought themselves of the most brave of them all! Well, even they have their doubts of themselves, I am sure—but that is beside the point! _Arthur Maupassant_... was _afraid_. That seemed so unlikely to me and for him to admit it to just a youthful Dunmer like myself had rather surprised me. I stared up at him for the longest time. My eyes searched his own and I still saw that smile pulled across his ashen lips.

In this moment, I had wanted to kiss him. I felt just like leaning forward and kissing those handsome lips. Oh, how silly I was! I patted and rubbed Arthur's back for just a moment more before I had removed myself from his arms. "I... I had better clean up now, hmm?"

He nodded his head frenetically. His hand lingered upon my shoulder and then he pushed me off with his fingertips. "I'll fetch you some clothes and then I'll wait here for you... if something happens, just call and I'll storm in."

I nodded and then quickly I added a note into my head to cover up before calling to Arthur—if something happened. On the other hand... should I call him deliberately? Oh, Valora, you little tramp! I entered the bathroom and closed the door after me making certain not to lock the door. Out of my soiled and bloodied clothes I had changed. There I stood upon the floor utterly nude. The lack of clothing had not protected me against the draft of the early morning hours. I turned the nozzles of the bathing tub and watched as steaming water filled it to the brim. It sloshed against the sides of the marble tub and I watched it longingly. Eventually, I had slipped into those warm waters and allowed it to envelope my nerve-shattered body. I rested beneath the surface and lay here forgetting what loomed just beyond this paradise. I rubbed oils and perfumes all over my body. The scent plagued my nostrils and burned away the bittersweet smell of blood and tears. Those moments still scarred me deep beneath the surface; however, I tried my hardest to forget them. I dunked my head beneath the water and watched as tentacles of black wrapped around my head and drifted within the water. I washed the oils from my hair and when I had finished I lifted from the water.

My breath rushed from me and just then I heard a noise behind me. That soothing emotion I once had dissipated behind a wall of paranoia and cynicism. Could there be someone in the bathroom? Could it be the murderer? Could it be Arthur? Nels? Primo? Had they killed the others?! Was it me next?! Would I survive?!

—Valora! By the Nine Divine, calm yourself! To my embarrassment, the noise was just the sound of the tub against the floorboards. They gave a creak and after a moment of silence I finally heaved a sigh and relaxed once again. From the waters I escaped and stood there dripping. The cold nipped at my dampened flesh, but I found myself a linen towel and soon dabbed myself dry. I exited the room to find Arthur standing nearby with his back propped against the wall. At the sound of the door opening its grand jaws, his head spun towards me. He came near and minded not to the petite scrap of cloth I bore. "Here," said he; offering to me a collection of garb.

With a nod of the head, I thanked him and retreated into the bathroom. It was not long after when I breached and was dressed in a surprisingly magnificent attire. As I came out I had hastily tied my dampened onyx hair back and away from my face. It peeved me so when moist bits of hair clung to my face. Arthur greeted me with a smile. I watched as he eyed me and I felt a bit of a blush flood to my cheeks. "Shall we... join the others then?" I questioned with a bit of sadness.

Arthur replied with a nod and together we left the chamber level and down to the second floor we descended. Together we huddled around the table to see Nels and Primo dividing food for us. Arthur and I sat close together and sectioned off our food. I sneered at an ocean of carrots that lay idle before me. I heard Arthur chuckle and gently he pushed them his way. I tossed him my gaze and softly I heard him whisper, "... here..." he ushered forth his portion of venison and bread, "I'll trade you—I don't fancy the meat of a stag."

How gracious our dear Arthur was! I traded with him immediately and all together we had a dinner. Perhaps to an outsider it may appear we were a compassionate family sitting down to a meal. However, deep within ourselves we knew much better then that. Our cagey eyes drifted across the surface of the table. We eyed one another. We held our cards close to us. When someone picked up a scrap of food, we wondered just who poisoned it—and how. As the day progressed, I found myself trusting none of the remaining houseguests. Perhaps Primo was true about his deductions—not all of them, but some. Maybe there _was_ a murderer. The thought sent chills across my neck and soon tumbling down my spine. I should not think of it. We were all civilized humans. It must have been our Host who staged this. Maybe... they hired the Dark Brotherhood—oh, Valora! How your imagination wanders! I poked at the remains of a potato as I smiled. My imagination did truly get the best of me sometimes. I remember one time—

"So," Nels interrupted my thoughts. "... Now that we're all here, I would like to say a few words."

I placed down my utensils and turned my undivided attention towards the Nord. Now that I looked at him—he, too, looked much older. Dark circles appeared under his intoxicated crystal eyes. He looked so ragged in this moment. I pitied the man. "There are only four of us left—obviously—and I think we should divide into permanent partners for the remainder of our time here."

"I suppose you want to be set off with the remaining female, do you, _Nord_?" Primo's harsh voice cut through the air as he was just about to sip upon a goblet of wine.

Nels gave no attention to the crude words of the Imperial; instead, he looked to Arthur and questioned, "What say you to this?"

Arthur was sipping his own glass at the time and just then he nearly leapt from his seat. His goblet came down and he licked his lips as he was to begin. I watched him eagerly for his words were law within this manor—no matter what young regal Primo said. "Well now... I believe that a splendid idea."

"Do you?" I heard Primo scoff. My eyes still lingered upon Arthur.

"But of course," Arthur gave him a sore look. He leaned closer to the table as he continued, "If my accusations are correct and there is another member in this house picking us off—we need to designate partners and stay with them every moment."

"I would much rather like to just stay as a whole, I don't believe I could last a day or more stuck with some of the people here," I could tell that Primo was hinting at Nels and myself. No matter though, for Nels drank eagerly at his bottle of Mead and paid no attention to the Imperial at his side.

"Yes well," Arthur started, "It would be much harder to conduct ourselves as a whole then in little groups of two."

"Perhaps," Primo moaned slightly displeased.

I turned my head to Arthur and grinned, "I think it sounds brilliant." Was I fawning over him too much?

Arthur gave me a half-smile from the corner of his lips before turning back to the other men. His elbows propped against the tabletop and he heaved a profound breath before questioning, "Now just who gets who?"

Finally, Nels spoke up, "I'll be damned if I get the Imperial swine!" His eyes blinked rapidly and he chuckled soon apologizing for Arthur was Imperial as well. I giggled to myself at this.

Primo scoffed and rolled his eyes as he snarled, "As will I! It is not of the Antonius to humble themselves enough to enter the company of the fiends of Skyrim."

Oh, Nels, please do not take offense to that!

"What the hell is that 'pose to mean, eh?!" Nels spat off while shoving away his bottle of mead.

Primo planted his hands upon the tabletop as if ready to push himself up and engage in a fight, "You know damn well right what it means, Ker!"

"Gentlemen!" Arthur boomed over their voices, "Please, settle yourselves! Direct your attention to the endeavor at hand, would you kindly." The worn Imperial sighed again and then said, "With the way you're carrying on I would not mind putting you together just to get you on right terms!"

The Nord and Regal Imperial both agreed on one thing as they gave a discontented 'Hmph'.

I gave a scowl to the two childish men and then my attention turned straight back to Arthur. I felt displeasure in my gut as I offered my assistance, "I'll be partnered with Nels, Sir Maupassant."

Silence overwhelmed them and Arthur finally fully turned himself to me. A glower creased his tanned façade as he whispered lightly, "Are you certain, Valora?"

I gave a grin and enthusiastic nod while looking back to Nels. He perked up with a faint smile as I addressed anyone who would take in my words, "It would settle the dispute and I'm certain that I'm the weakest here so I should be fitted with the strongest—unless you have any objections Sir Maupassant."

"Indeed not," his tone was bland and hinted at no condemnation. "Would that be fine with you, Primo? Being stuck with an elder of your kind shouldn't be too much of a burden should it?"

Primo shook his head and then said, "I'd prefer you then any other."

I had expected a reply such as this. Primo and I were never on good terms with one another. Nor was he and Nels ever friends. I should have suspected that he wished to be paired off with Arthur. I had felt quite a bit of jealously for I wished to sleep by the side of Mr. Maupassant. I was a matured Dunmer woman—I had my reasons for such a request. After we all had agreed on the partner arrangements, Nels and I headed off upstairs to gather up pillows and sheets for we decided it would be smart to sleep upon the first floor instead of up in the chambers. Arthur had offered to fetch my possessions from my old room—Primo had not liked the idea, but I presume that it was better then anything else.

As the rest of the day passed, not much had happened. The body of Matilde had been wrapped within sheets and taken to the basement where Neville lay as well. Primo and Arthur had gathered their possessions as well and found themselves a sleeping spot upon one of the lower floors. Our arrangements were much more thought out then they were previously. In no time, I was certain we would have located the treasure and all this was to be behind us. I could only pray that no more souls were lost within a tormented and twisted game that we now had to play. I could only pray...

-+-

_Tirdas, Day __Four_

_The Breton hag is no more. __Disposed of her last night.__ From what I saw of the fight between her and the Dunmer I knew then that it was the perfect time to strike. Snuck into their room, I did. I glided like a ghost and remained as concealed as __a shadow. I__ passed over __Valora__ like an angel of Sithis himself. It was not yet her time—oh, no. I gave her a kiss upon the cheek and tucked her in all nice and tight. She slept like a beauty—she really had. I found Matilde and seized her nice and tight over the mouth. She awoke and attempted screaming but I sliced her throat nice and deep__. Felt the blade scrape the bone__ She thrashed and I cut __again__... and again...__ and again. __Like... cutting a _carrot_I heard her choke on __her flesh and blood__ and after a moment I turned to leave and that was when, Mother, I had a new epiphany. __Genius!__ What a genius I was! I crept to the bedside of Valora and lightly I__ slid the dagger into her hand. The poor dear would wake in such a fright! She would blame herself; she did not speak word of it either! Not to me... not to the others. __I risked everything today when I said that there might be a murderer in the house. At first, I thought myself idiotic—but I think this might prove useful. I had hoped to __be staged__ with young Dran for__ reasons _obvious_ for a man__... but it appears she would rather have the Nord over anyone else. I can see she just did it to pity him... __I have seen the way she looks at me. The way she lingers on my words... I believe... she may prove use to me just yet. I received a note from Lucien in the morning... he concealed it in the rotting carcass of a mouse by the window. Luckily, I saw this before anyone disposed of the corpse. In the message, he said he had taken care of the girl named... Dovesi Dran. From what I gather, Valora was _not_ the Dunmer who was to come to this manor. This troubles me... I __was informed__ to murder all the desired guests—but Valora was _not_ a desired guest. She was merely a replacement. Her soul means naught to Sithis. ... This troubles me. Yes, it troubles me deeply... it is something one might not comprehend unless in my place here._

_...---... _

_I know it wrong. I know if Lucien or... or Ocheeva... or even _Vincente_ found out this... they might as well take my rank from me and send me off—or worse. __Nevertheless,__ I think that I might have a way to... _

_Primo's__ back from his errand. Joy of joys, praise of praise! I think he's moaning on about having blood __on__ his __cufflink. I must go. __He will__ suspect something. Until then, my dear Mother. _


	5. The Calm

- -

My eyes began burning.

... I suppose staring straight into the flames of a fireplace was not the wisest of things to do, hmm? I sat there, cross-legged, just a few feet before the hearth. My hands were idly placed on my thighs. My fingertips had tickled the hardened pads of my toes as I thought habitually to myself. It was nothing profound or... or genius, mind you, it was just...

... just thinking.

Just thinking.

Thinking of the future. Thinking of what I would do when I got out of here and had the chance to go home and see my mother, father and sister. Thinking of Dovesi's face when I brought back the treasure—if I brought it back, that is. I hoped she was fairing well. Thinking of what would have happened if I was paired with the enchanting Sir Maupassant.

–my concentration was broken by a smile pulling taut against my lips.

It was rather childish, really, to think of Arthur in that manner. I could see him on his side hunching over me as I lie supinely before the hearth of the fireplace. He would twiddle strands of my hair through his fingers and lightly we would exchange sweet-nothings so no other member of the manor would hear. They would be jealous—you see. Hah... yes... well... I suppose one's imagination runs wild at this young of an age. You can't truly blame me. Dovesi always said I was the imaginative sort. Come up with things on the spot, I did. Oh, how I miss my dear sister. It would be such a pleasure to see her again. To see her smiling face and to hear her fawning over Regal Primo. Oh, she would be falling head over heels if she saw just how wealthy he was. She can be quite materialistic, actually. Beyond believe... I remember this one night when—

"How's the fire?" the raspy voice of Nels nearly sent me leaping from my skin.

I composedly cocked my head his way and just smiled at him. After seeing him settle himself down onto the mat next to me, I had answered quietly, "Quite warm... it'll last us a while, I am sure."

The Nord gave a few nods and then reclined back onto the palms of his hands. I gave him a second glance and then looked back to the fire. The crackling of wood and billowing of smoke could be evidently seen now. This scene reminded me much of home.

"... they think you killed her... her and the Redguard," Nels stated bluntly, "... Our dear Primo has been trying to convince Arthur to hand you over to the guards after this is all done."

My heart raced. I knew I hadn't killed either Neville nor even Matilde, but I was afraid. Primo had wealth... he could easily pay off the guards if he had wanted me gone so desperately; nevertheless, I doubt he'd resort to _that_. After taking a sigh to calm my nerves, I said, "I have done nothing wrong here... the guards cannot arrest anyone unless there is evidence—which there is not."

"Aye," Nels nearly choked on the word. I hadn't taken my eyes away from the fire, nor had I needed to to tell that he had begun nodding once more. "Aye... I know that—Arthur knows it, too. Primo is just blowing off steam... it's his way to deal with this all, I think. Arthur's is staying silent and not saying his part... mine is... well—"

"Drinking?" I gave him a glance. He gave me a scowl back and then I continued, "... and mine is trying not to deal with it at all." I twiddled with my toes and glanced back to the fire.

That really wasn't the truth. If anything, I was like Arthur. Keeping quiet, not saying my part, but dwelling deep within my thoughts. I could only imagine what was rushing through Arthur's mind. Two deaths under the same damn house... and we're all locked in here like little rats for some Mage's experiment.

... what if Arthur was next?

... Oh, by Septim, what would I do?

I heard Nels' voice humming in my ear, but I heeded it not. I gave him an acknowledging glance and he seemed to end his ramblings. A while had passed since then. He poured me a cup of mead just to settle my nerves a bit. I suppose he saw me quivering my legs a bit. We talked a little more and after sipping sparingly upon my glass, I heard Nels speak a bit of a daughter. My heart leapt up my throat as though it wished to eavesdrop upon the conversation. I urged further into his veiled past and I found out that his daughter had been murder some time ago. My heart fell back down into my stomach and my limbs went quite limp.

... The reason I needed the treasure seemed to dissipate into nothing before Nels' tragic past.

There were many questions that lingered within my mind, but I didn't want to force Nels into answering me. Obviously the loss of his daughter had some great impact on him. Perhaps Primo was right about one thing... Nels drinks to forget. My heart began to lower and turn to ash as I began to mull over this thought. The night carried on and we stayed within our groups—utterly separated from one another and interacting not. Occasionally, I saw Arthur and Primo walking downstairs to fetch themselves a bite to eat. Primo turned his nose up at us and Nels returned the gesture with something less subtle. Arthur, however, had given us a smile and nod.

That was the extent of our interactions this day.

Arthur and Primo retreated to their little fortress upon the second floor as Nels and I rested here upon ground level. After another hour or so, I followed Nels into the basement to fetch some ingredients to make a stew. I hadn't felt that hungry, but I suppose that I was blind to my own needs because of my nerves. I returned before the fire as Nels fashioned the stew. He brew it over the hearth and as we waited. I poured myself more mead as Nels had his back turned. I felt rather sneaky as the bottle tipped and the liquid slithered into my tankard. I placed back the mead bottle where it had been and I glanced off hearing the faint idle chatter of Primo. As I stared off at the boards of second floor, I could only imagine Primo's mouth racing and Arthur sitting there just as composed as he always was. Arthur would be sitting with his side to the fire. He would nod occasionally to Primo who would never cease his words. I could hardly imagine what he would say to me if I had been his partner. He would rage on about my apparel and how a _true_ lady sits straight and keeps her legs crossed or closed.

I tossed off that thought whenever Nels handed me a chipped bowl full of leek and venison stew. I dug in hungrily and after a while, the awkward barrier between Nels and I had been broken. Perhaps it was from the mead? We laughed heartily and told each other tales of our past—our happy past. He told me jokes and we roared with such joyous laughter that Primo had to yell down at us to keep quiet. I twittered quietly to myself with a hand holding my lips together. My eyes clenched shut and merry tears formed at my lashes as I opened my eyes back up. To Nels I had given my attention for he had mimicked the regal young Antonius and gestured crudely up to the stairs. I laughed and spluttered a bit of mead out of the tankard which was wrapped in my hands. "Oh, Nels, you're _terrible_!" I hissed with a laugh.

His chest heaved as he gave off a very deep hoot and he collected our bowls and put them near the fire—he would clean them out later. From here, the night slowly began to decline. Together, Nels and I had drained the bottle of mead and we had no more. Sure, there were a few bottles upstairs, but I recommended that we stay here for if we went upstairs and Arthur saw that Nels had gotten me drunk—well—I'm certain he would not be proud of either of us. Nels fashioned together his mat and he pulled back the thick wool sheet. I glanced to my own and then stood up.

"... what're ya doing?" Nels hissed as he looked up to me with wary eyes.

I walked over to the bookcase across the room and smiled soon informing my friend over my shoulder, "... just grabbing a few books, I don't think I'm really tired at the moment."

"Oh," the word tumbled over the Nord's lips and he situated himself and soon heaved a breath, "... well, don't you go wandering too far now. Gotta keep an eye on you, I do."

"I know," I shoveled a few choice books into my hands as I turned and came back to the fireplace. I sat upon the little wooden bench, hearing a creek as I came down.

I flipped through the pages of each book until I found something interesting. A few books that I had chosen were more like encyclopedias written on creatures or certain herbs only found in the darkest and unexplored areas of the Colovian Highlands. I smiled to myself at a few names of ingredients that reminded me oddly enough of more crude words. As I came to a petite hard covered book about guilds, I found an interesting article about the Dark Brotherhood. My brow perched and I hunched over the book, tilting it towards the raging flames of the hearth. The shadowy golden rays casted over the pages and I had to squint to read. According to the article, the Brotherhood had begun what seems like centuries ago. I flipped the page over with the nail of my thumb; reading on.

The topic of the Dark Brotherhood was a touchy one to speak of in public. If you had asked a question in the wrong way then one might suspect that you were a member or were attempting to be apply as an assassin. The whole lot of it seemed like rubbish, actually. A guild of assassins... creeping through the shadows doing the deeds of Sithis and the Night Mother? Something had seemed off about it. I had barely been able to accept the fact of the Nine Divines let alone an old woman who sends souls to the "Dread Father", I shut the book and tossed it off to my side. What a book of lore. Perhaps I gained my cynical beliefs from my mother who had been a heretic ever since she were born. Instead of that nonsense, I opened an epic poem and began skimming through it.

Not long after it had seemed that the flames of the hearth had died down and the words upon the parchment before me turned to ash and were no longer decipherable. This had truly began to annoy me. I glanced up from the book and looked to the charred bones of the firewood. They jutted through the flames and sparkled like rubies.

We were running out of firewood.

I gave a glance to the basket which held the sections of timber to find it bare. I suppose during Nels and I's fit of intoxication, we had forgotten to acquire more firewood from the shelves downstairs. I gave another irritated groan. My hands lifted to my eyes and they rubbed harshly over the skin there. As my hands slowly fell, they pulled upon my skin. I let go and hastily turned my head to the stairs. With such deftness, I listened to see if there were any noises from the upper levels. Everything seemed eerily quiet. Not even the sparking of the fireplace from upstairs could be heard. Had Primo and Arthur doused the flame? I lifted from the bench and with a glance to the snoring beast behind me, I had wondered if traveling just up the stairs was out of the territory Nels had established for me. Oh, nonsense—I was _only_ going up a flight of stairs! After entering the second level, Primo and Arthur would be at my feet. What harm could possibly be—

Don't jinx yourself—you have a natural knack for jinxing yourself into great misfortune.

Ok, I won't _say_ it, but... well... yes—you understand.

While wiggling my bare toes, I slunk towards the wall. In my mind, I could see me clad in black—like a thief working its way through a great castle. I scaled the wall and soon stepped up to the stairs. I attempted to step lightly, but when I pushed down my weight, the stairs creaked.

... they never seemed _this_ loud during the daytime.

With a glare into the darkness, I gave an infuriated sigh. I shook my head and with a cranked neck I glanced over the landing seeing Primo situated awkwardly within a chair. His grand silk and down blankets wrapped around the chair making it more comfortable. His head hung down and his tresses glittered like gold in the prancing firelight. I strained my eyes to see the basket of firewood. There, deep within its black arms sat a few chopped pieces of lumber. I shuffled my way forward—almost like an old woman with a crook in her back. There were around five shards of lumber. I only needed two. I suppose Primo wouldn't get his britches in a twist if I only took two.

Mmm... yes I suppose that was a wiser way to think of it.

I lowered myself and like a burglar stealing diamonds, I wrenched the logs up from the basket. They clattered against the sides of the tin basket making my muscles tense. I gave an eye over my shoulder to see Primo still lying pathetically across that chair. I hoisted up the logs and just as I was about to turn away I heard my name whisper off like a crackle of the fireplace I stood near. I leapt and cranked around to see Arthur sitting up from his pallet. His once oiled back hair falling in thick tresses over his creased brow. Even now he appeared before me as an angel. I gave him a weak smile as I flashed him the logs. I saw him squint and then he had acknowledged them with a hoarse, 'oh'. I shuffled them in my arms, feeling their coarse skin scrape at my own. With a whisper I told Arthur, "Nels and I are running out..." my lips enunciated the words quite well, in case Arthur was attempting to read my lips.

He nodded a few times and I turned and tiptoed myself back to the steps. Just as I was about to descend, a shadow overcame me and an extended hand glided over my shoulder like a breeze. My head slowly wrenched as I watched the firm hand snatch away the logs with grace. They left my hands and fluttered past my head. I turned eagerly to see Arthur standing languidly at the top of the stairs. His eyelids drooped over pools of grey. Behind him a fiery scene which cast his gargantuan shadow over me.

"I thought we made it clear not to travel alone." He had muttered off hardly comprehensible. He had shaken himself ever so lightly from the embrace of sleep.

My eyes narrowed and my ears perked as I caught this situation birthing into a... scolding? Was Arthur going to scold me for traveling eight steps—_eight steps_—just to get a few more logs? I played an innocent smile upon my lips as I had huffed, "... but... I only went up—"

"—and Neville only went to get a drink, and Matilde only went to bed," Arthur had brooded as he stormed down the stairs in a rush. His tone hardly sounded like it would any other time we would have come together. In this moment, he had lost his sense of... comfort.

My mouth hung ajar for no excuse would usher out. No excuse seemed worthy enough. Two people were dead because they 'just thought'. I lowered my gaze and stood upon the last wooden step as Arthur had rounded about and tossed the logs within my hearth. I saw brightness envelope the room and the blaze had given off a contented crackle as it's hunger had been satisfied. My eyes lowered to my hands and involuntarily I had begun twiddling my fingertips. I tossed my hands aside and lifted my head. My shoulders fell in grief as I was finally reminded as to just what I had to lose in this damned manor. "... I...I'm sorry."

With hesitance, I had lifted my eyes back up; eager to see Arthur's reaction. Hardly a few feet away from me he stood. His eyes fastened upon mine as I had given him my reluctant glance. His chiseled face was embraced within the shadows of the firelight; a sculptor's masterpiece. A tiny spark of tangerine caught in the corner of his icy grey eyes. It had been a few moments and finally Arthur had broken the stare. He heaved a profound sigh and looked elsewhere. I watched even more keenly as he had begun, "... things are not boding well, Ms. Dran." He turned his head back to me with a furrowed brow. I saw the disarray and sorrow painted across those supple pouted lips of his. "You are the youngest and purest of us all... I... I fear for you."

... Arthur _fears_ for me?

My chest gulped and my heart reached outwards stretching its hands to the heavens. There it had given praise to Dibella the Goddess for she surely showed favor for me. I no longer could hide my coy smile. My cheeks rounded and my lips drew taut as I smiled ever so brightly at Arthur. My heart fluttered as I had inquired, "... why do you fear? Am I not in safe hands?"

...how I wanted to be in _his_ hands.

"You are... you really are," he nodded frantically while walking forward. As he had neared just close enough, he had tilted his head back to look up at me. My bosom heaved as his presence was well sensed by my own body. "Can I not worry about you, my dear?" With such grace, I watched as he had offered me his hand. It turned like a wave in the ocean and soon his palm faced upwards, awaiting my own hand.

Subtly, I licked my lips and lifted my own hand to his. Skin slid against skin and his hand was so warm. Slowly, his fingers curled over my lavender skin and he led me off the stairs. I followed him to my fireplace where he had sat me down upon the petite mahogany bench, he soon joining by my side. My head reeled around and I gazed deeply within the crux of the fire. It shone so beautifully now that it had been fueled. The wood smoldered and turned to glowing embers, radiating off such heat. My chest began to sweat as I had felt Arthur deviously wrap his arm around my shoulders.

... I don't think... it was the fire creating this heat. I think—

"May I ask you something," the words tumbled from my lips like flopping slaughterfish.

"But of course," Arthur had purred.

I cocked my head to a side and looked up at him with a gaze that hinted at incredibility. I licked my lips again before I had started, "...what are you going to do when you get out of here?"

There was silence.

I watched eagerly as Arthur had sat there; frozen in time. His eyes gazed back at me, but there seemed to be something off. Something wrong. My brow furrowed to some extent as I had moved my head a little to make sure he was following. Before I could even inquire if he had been alright, he had answered me:

"... I... I had been initially planning to return back to my own land. I have a business waiting for me and I doubt that it could progress without my assistance."

My brow perched. "You own a business?"

He chuckled deeply with a handsome smile painted across his face. His eyes turned to the fire and he looked there longingly. "... perhaps one day."

"Oh," my lips became puckered and I looked to the fire as well. There we had sat within our silence. I combed through my mind for all the questions I could possibly as the Imperial. Something that would open him up, for we hadn't gotten the time to ever speak wholeheartedly. "... Is there a Mrs. Maupassant I should know about?"

... why did I just ask that question?

Valora—god's blood... can you be _more_ obvious?! ... you tramp.

Arthur laughed at that question, though, which had lightened the shame I felt for asking it. I gave a smile and soon he answered, "I don't think there's a sensible woman out there who would want me as a husband."

My smile began to fade.

"... why do you say that?"

He gave a shrug and kept his eyes to the fire. Slowly he had been building up a fortress around himself. I could see it in his eyes. They became hollow and distant. What had he been trying to hide? "I do a lot of traveling. It's... it's a part of my profession. I meet a lot of people and most of them I never see again."

"Don't you want a home to come back to? A wife that will... will have meals ready and make you—stockings?"

He laughed and turned back to me, "Stockings, huh?"

I gave a shrug and smiled back at him, "First thing that came to my mind."

... his eyes were so beautiful.

They shined like diamonds. Beautiful flawless diamonds basking in the sunlight. I felt the warmth engulf my chest yet again as Arthur and I continued to smile at one another. With a heaved sigh I had situated myself and fell against his chest. I rested my hand upon the curve of his stomach as I had nestled myself against him. The puffs of his breath fell against the tip of my ear. Echoing in the other was his heart. It was constant and slowly I found myself breathing in rhythm with it. Arthur's head had tilted down and against my crown I felt him place his lips. He kissed there and rubbed my bare shoulder—pulling me closer.

My eyes faltered and slowly creeping over me I felt the pull of slumber. Reluctantly, I had parted my lips and told Arthur, "... I'm so tired."

"... just go to sleep," he purred against my ear with such a handsome voice. "You're safe here."

I nodded—how many times, I cannot recall.

My eyes shut. No longer could I keep them open. No longer could I keep myself awake. My senses began to fail and I began to fall asleep.

... goodnight... Arthur Maupassant.

- -

_Freedas, Day Five_

_Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora, Primo, Nels, Valora,__ Primo, Nels, __Valora..._

_Nels. _


	6. The Storm::Reborn

**_ How long has it been? Don't answer that. The final chapter to the story has arrived! I saw the trailers for Skyrim and man did it just make me want to finish this off. _**

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My dreams that night were more interesting then they had ever been. The colors of this dream were found wanting. I saw the world around me in black and white flashes. As if one wandered the earth in darkness with only the breaths of lightning guiding their path. I saw many terrors that night. I relived each moment in the manor surrounded by corpses. They composed the walls and stared at me with those… _eyes._ Those convicting and beseeching eyes. They screamed from lifeless lips. I heard my name. They chanted it as if I were a combatant at the Arena, but I guess I didn't really hear them at all. I found the other guests around the dinner table. They ate molded bread and spoiled food. Maggots squirmed from the orifices of the venison like daedroth from oblivion's icy mire, but the guests didn't see this. They merely ate.

Neville was there. So was Matilde.

The soldier's neck was distorted and he hung his head excruciatingly to the side, food slopped from his hanging jaw, plopping against the linen of his shirt. Matilde hunched in her chair, her throat blackened with blood and her eyes dark and lifeless, and yet she too ate the putrefied rations. When I came to them, they ignored my presence. I felt more like a ghost then I did alive. I watched them, indifferently. To each face I turned my gaze, taking in their features and remembering all that I saw. Nels' skin was charred and from his cracked flesh poured all the mead he ever drank in life. To Primo, I turned. He looked the healthiest of them all, besides a queer light that shone like a lantern from the pits of his stomach. Finally, I turned my eyes to Arthur.

To my surprise, he was staring back at me.

Our eyes locked and between them brewed a tension so fierce it caused my stomach to lurch. There was something eerie in those once loving, grey eyes. This didn't look like the Arthur I knew. He wore Arthur's clothes and drank Arthur's wine, but I didn't know this man.

Suddenly, there came a mist from the darkness. It floated nearer and loomed over Arthur's shoulder. There was a part of me that screamed for this Colovian imposter to escape, yet I stood still and merely observed. From this mist came a withered hand and upon Arthur's shoulder it fell. The fog faded between corporeal and illusion as it took the form of a very old woman. She looked kindly upon Arthur, regarding him with maternal eyes.

I called her name, though as hard as I try, I do not remember the words. She turned to me and smiled the way she did at Sir Maupassant. Her hand still remained on his shoulder, yet it was the other that reached out to me. I felt an overwhelming need to run to her. My hand lifted and to her I reached.

It was then that the chanting of my voice became deafening and the dream rippled into darkness and I was awoken by screaming.

When I came to, I was lying on the mahogany bench where I retired to with Arthur that previous night, yet this time, I was alone. The fire still blazed within its hearth, crackling and laughing as it consumed the wood that had been tossed to its flames. I heard the snap of wood but not from the fire, it was from a table across the room. I leapt off the bench, nearly falling and bashing my skull open against the stone floor. My vision blurred and I stumbled a bit before realizing what had occurred.

It was Nels and Arthur.

I watched in horror as Nels lifted Arthur from the remains of the shattered table and flung him like a ragdoll into the wall. Arthur cried out as his back slammed against the cold brick and to the ground he fell, slouched and unmoving. Primo then entered the scene, brandishing a sword drawn from the sheath at his side. He approached Nels, shouting absurdities that my weary mind just wasn't ready to process. What was happening? Was I still dreaming?

"What the hell is going on down here?" Primo boomed.

"A'TUR!" Nels' words slurred worse than I ever heard before. He stumbled, colliding with the bookcase and sending dusty tomes raining down. "Basta… I… k' 'im."

I rushed forward, terrified to involve myself, but feeling the need to. Still, I questioned this reality. I didn't feel like myself, was I still that shrouded phantom? Would they hear me if I called out to them? "Nels, calm down! What happened?"

Nels groaned, falling against a wall, clutching the sides of his head, furiously. The muscles in his neck were bulging and the once porcelain flesh of his face turned a deep maroon. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Arthur was clutching his side, his face distorted in sheer agony. Blood dripped from the corner of his broad lips. How long had they been fighting? I felt the need to rush to him, to tend to his wounds and bring him into my arms, but my eyes could not leave the frightening visage of the Nord.

He screamed again, doubling over and clawing at the sides of his head. Both Primo and I staggered back in horror. "W-what's happening to him?" I cried. Why was no one answering me?

"Keel 'im. All… all o'… 'im. Is 'im! Keel 'im!" Nels' voice roared as he stumbled to us.

Even though he was my dearest friend, I drew back in terror. I felt like a child, finding no solace, only fear, in the world around me. I couldn't grasp this reality and all that had occurred. The last thought I had was the comfort and serenity that I found in Arthur's arms, but that thought was now found fleeting. Arthur was now badly injured and Primo and I backed away from an enraged Nordic man in the depths of lunacy. I couldn't understand. I didn't want to understand. I wanted to close my eyes and reverse time, back to the moment when in this manor I felt truly and wholly safe. _Just stop. _I screamed. _Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it._

"Nels," Primo shouted above the tormented screams. "You need to calm down—"

"—NOOO." Nels cried as he darted towards us, with a swing of his gargantuan arms he sent Primo flying, the sword fell loose from his grip and clattered across the stone floor. I screamed as the Nord wrapped his hands around my shoulders, shaking me as he wept, "Believe… me." Tears poured from his crimson eyes as he wailed and shook me hysterically. I beat my fists against his chest to no avail. I was no match for him. His grip was tightening and I felt my bones beginning to creak, any more strain and they would shatter like splinters of wood. His hands found their way to my neck. My air escaped me. I was tossed back and forth like the prey in a wolf's maul. There was crying. I gripped at Nels' shirt, my fingers digging into his flesh and drawing blood. I heard him scream. My world was spinning. Blackness. Nels' tortured face. _Am I dreaming_?

I couldn't breath. My hands began to loosen from his collar. My eyes fluttered and there was darkness waiting to embrace me. And… suddenly… I didn't feel the need.

The need to fight it.

I didn't feel the need to hide from it, or wish it away.

I began to accept it.

In that moment, the weight from my body lifted and I felt like I was floating. The pain escaped me and just for that moment there was stillness. My thoughts dispersed into a void that I've never known.

Then came the silence.

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Pain.

Sound.

Screaming.

The weight flooded back through my body like an ocean's wave crashing against the shoreline. I fell to the ground, hard. I yelped in pain. I was dizzy and sick. As I turned my blurry vision upwards, I saw Arthur standing over me, slamming his fist into Nels' jawline. The Nord stumbled, colliding with the wall and then bouncing back with a force I had never seen before. Arthur and Nels crashed together. I couldn't tell where one man began and the other ended as they whirled in a vicious storm. The firelight turned their masses to golden casts and made every shade etched on their features prominent marks of darkness.

I was frozen on the floor, watching with wide eyes at this animalistic behavior, I felt like it too would consume me.

It was Nels that broke free of this bind and snatched Arthur by the throat and lifted him many feet off the ground. The Colovian gripped the Nord's forearm, trying to keep himself from being suffocated.

"WAS 'ER?" Nels' voice bellowed from his hanging jaw. Saliva dripped from the corners of his lips as he faltered in his step. "YOU WON' TOU' 'ER!"

"Nels, please!" I shrieked. "Put him down!"

If I wasn't so close, I doubt I would have caught every movement that happened next. Arthur swung his legs and kicked both of his boots into Nels' stomach, causing him to cry out and double over. A spew of mead and noxious fumes fell from his lips and hastily he dropped the man from his great hands. Just as Arthur had landed he grabbed Nels' head and kneed him mercilessly in the face. I heard the crunch of bones and saw my dear friend beginning to fall limp, I shouted for this to end but Arthur hadn't stopped. I saw a flurry of fists and kicks to Nels' body. He twisted—contorted—and _howled_. And then from his belt, Arthur drew a blade and drove its wicked tip through Nels' back.

I screamed. To my feet I bounded, grabbing Arthur's shirt and attempting to pull him back—to undo what had been done.

Arthur kept stabbing and with his knife still plunged into Nels' back, he lifted him and tossed him over the bench. The Nord's lifeless body tumbled and shattered the wood. The upper half of his corpse fell into the hearth and engulfed in flames.

_This can't be real. I must be dreaming._ I whimpered. My fists still clutched handfuls of Arthur's shirt as I gawked at the horror of burning flesh. The smell flooded my nostrils and I drew back and became sick. My hands seized my face and I turned away, forcing the thoughts from my head. A thousand screams echoed against the walls of my mind and I felt myself losing grip on my sanity. _This can't be real. Nels can't be dead. This isn't real. _My world began spinning again. The weight of everything lifted as I fell against the wall, gripping its sturdy mass to keep myself from fainting.

This place was a madhouse. We were all going to die here.

We were all going to _die_.

"God's Blood," Primo whispered, lifting himself from the ground.

"He was poisoned," I finally heard Arthur's voice. It was broken and weak, yet still tried to keep its form of regality. "He went crazy and attacked me as I slept. But it's over now."

My thoughts lashed at me. Neville. Matilde. _Nels_. What once was six now is three. Which of us was to be next? This supposed contest was nothing but a sick and twisted game. We were being hunted—_toyed _with. This isn't a manor. This is a slaughterhouse. We're all going to die in here. I never will be able to see my sister again. My father… my mother. I never would hear their voices or see my home in Vvardenfell ever again. Tears fell past my cheeks and with what remained of my strength I stumbled to the fireplace. Ignoring the burnt corpse, I snatched from the hearth's side the fireplace's black poker. "No more," my voice trembled. "I'm getting out of this house if I have to break the _damn_ door!"

I lifted the poker and drove it into the weighted door. I heard the shatter of wood. I kept hitting it. "I won't die here! I won't let them kill me!" My crazed eyes only focused on the one thing that kept me from freedom. _Boom. Boom. Boom._ "Damn the treasure! Damn the contest!"

After an eternity, the latch on the door broke and the door swung free.

There was silence.

The poker dropped from my hand and gently, I began to laugh.

"Valora!" Primo cried, "I… I can't believe it. You damn genius!" I turned to see the highborn race for the door. "To Oblivion with this contest. I'm going home. Akatosh be damned if I ever _think _of coming—"

All of a sudden, I saw Primo rushed into the door by Arthur. I drew back in panic until I watched the Colovian back away. The blade which Primo once held against the Nord now pinned him to the large frame of the door. I listened in horror as the boy gasped for breath, crimson liquor pouring from his parted lips. His hands gripped the steel of the blade, trying frantically to pull it from his stomach. His blood ran down the etchings of the door and within moments he fell lifeless against the blade.

No.

It couldn't be.

"Now, I need you to listen to me, Valora," Arthur's kind voice purred.

I slowly turned to him, frozen in time.

"I won't… hurt you. I just want to talk."

"… Neville…Matilde," I whispered.

"Yes, I know—"

"Nels," my voice trembled as realization rushed me. I began to step away. "What did you do to him?"

"I poisoned his mead. He was supposed to die immediately. I didn't take into account his height or weight, it wasn't supposed to happen like this," Arthur answered calmly. "Please, Valora, _listen to me_."

My eyes turned to the hanging corpse of Primo on the door. My face contorted and I found my hands coming up to my mouth to shelter my cries. Still, I stepped back.

"I killed them," Arthur admitted. "That I shan't lie. It was your sister, Dovesi Dran, that was to be here—_not you_. But I can't just let you leave, you see. You know my face… you know my _name_."

My heart leapt into my throat. "Please, no."

Arthur slowly advanced me. "I won't harm you. I could _never_ harm you."

"St-stay… away," I whispered.

"Valora," he sighed, reaching out for me.

I found myself against the wall, Arthur inches from me. His bloodied fingertips lifted and caressed my cheek. They burned my flesh. I could feel all the blood of the guests that tainted his hands. I could hear their _cries_. My brow quivered as he leaned closer, cupping my face. My hands explored the end table next to me. Upon it I felt an empty bowl and the handle of what I thought to be a pewter fork. Arthur's lips lowered to the bend of my neck. He left delicate kisses there, his fingers coiling through my black hair. Chills of rapture and horror coursed up my ribs as I never before had felt the lustful touch of a man. My eyes closed tightly and I bit my lip as I wrapped my hand firmly around the fork's handle. I felt his cheek brush mine and the tips of our noses touch. I opened my eyes and met the icy gaze of a murderer. His thumb ran over my lower lip as he turned his eyes there. His mouth parted and he leaned into me, caressing the tender skin of his lips against mine.

I could bear it no longer.

I tore the fork from the tabletop and jammed it into Arthur's side. I plunged it deep into his flesh, swearing vengeance for those lives of which he took so carelessly. I heard him shout and watched as he fell back onto a table. His face twisted and he gripped his side in pain. I waited no longer here and made a run for the door. My hands clasped the handle and attempted to pull it open, but Primo's corpse and the sword had made opening this gate far too difficult of a task to do in such a short time. I whipped my head around to see Arthur ripping the fork from his side, his nostrils flared as he turned his piercing, grey eyes to me. He tossed the utensil aside and pushed himself from the table. "Valora, come here."

"No," I whispered. "Leave me alone."

"_COME HERE_," he boomed, making a dash forward.

I quickly sidestepped him, making a run for the stairs. I wasn't paying attention to how I moved or where I went. All I thought of was a way to stop him.

Just as I met the landing of the first set of stairs, I felt Arthur's hand wrap around my ankle and drag me to the ground. I yelped as I hit the wooden floor, feeling his weight claw on top of me. It was crushing me, his once compassionate hand now malicious against my body. He grabbed my wrists, but I tore them away. I squirmed beneath him, elbowing and clawing at his face and neck. Each action I made, he merely pushed me even further down into the floor. I was trapped. I felt his weight shift, he sat up. His knees planting firmly at my sides. My voice ripped through my throat and belted out. I wanted someone to hear, anybody to hear my screams. Arthur's hand fell against my mouth, gripping it shut.

I wept underneath him. My eyes burned with tears and I didn't watch him as he pinned me to the floor. One of my wrists he had lodged under his knee, the other he gripped in his free hand. "I'm making you a damn offer," he snapped. "The only way you leave this place alive is to come with me." My cries slowed and he shook my head, forcing my eyes to open and look at him.

Our eyes clashed.

Crimson and Grey.

I was silent.

"… You weren't a part of this contract," he spoke gentler now. "The others… they _deserved_ this. You. You are innocent. Though it is because of what you saw and what you know, I cannot let you _go_." A smile graced his lips. That one smile that I used to love. "However… if you promise yourself to me—if you come _with_ me. Then you may live."

"You… _killed_ them," I whispered.

His lips became taut as he looked at me. I watched his throat lift and fall as he swallowed words perhaps he would regret saying. We stayed in this silence, my mind racing and rippled with the thoughts of a thousand lives. How many lies had he made since he stepped into the manor? How many more lives has he taken? Will anyone ever know of what happened here? My chest heaved and fell violently as I still could not catch my breath. Arthur's hand hovered below my chin, his fingertips gently caressing the muscles of my neck. I tried pulling from him, but any attempt was futile.

"Valora," he called. "Do you wish to live or to die?"

Gently, against my neck I felt the chill of steel. I didn't need to look in order to know what it was. I laid back my head upon my pillow of raven hair as Arthur and I matched gazes. Our eyes never faltered or fell away from the other and in this time I thought of everything that had happened these last few days. I thought of the words he said and the corpses of my friends that were left in his wake. I looked over his face, his chiseled cheekbones and his square jaw. His thick eyebrows curved kindly over his almond shaped eyes. I didn't trust him anymore, who would? When I looked at him, I didn't feel that foolish patter of my heart, I felt a churning in my stomach. His handsome smile did nothing but remind me of the lies he wove to make me fall for his tricks. When I looked at him I saw the faces of Nels and Neville, of Matilde and Primo. This man sickened me. But… in the end… the question was did I want my grave to be in the dampened corridor of the basement where my friends lay, or did I want to leave here with the man who killed those friends?

Reluctantly, I knew the choice I had to make.

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The rain poured heavily down upon the cobble stoned street outside the manor's door. Arthur embraced the falling gleams of silver with open arms, walking into the desolate boulevard with a grave frown. His head turned to the sky and he breathed the fresh air. In a way, the rain washed him free of his sins. As his heavy jackets became burdened with the rain, he slicked his hair back out of his face with nimble fingers and turned to the manor.

"Are you coming?"

I stood in the doorway, watching him with heavy eyes. I drew the hood of the robes he gave me over my head, veiling my shamed face from Skingrad's judgmental eyes. With a final glance behind me, I closed the door of Summitmist Manor and with its single known key, I locked the door. My hands cradled the golden key carefully, my eyes turning to its guiltless gleam. I prayed forgiveness and sheltered the key in my pocket, joining my new Master at his side in the downpour. He watched me carefully, his brow lowering over those silver, troubled pools. I tried not to look at him. When I had told him my answer on the second floor, he made a vow to me. After a year of being with him, and learning the ways of an assassin and the necessity that his job bears, he made me this promise:

"Should you not view the world as I do, and should you still hate me for what happened in that manor, I will let you walk free. You may return to Vvardenfell or do whatever it is you wish with your new life. I will hold nothing against you."

So together we stood in this rain, silent and yet saying so much by merely being here. He, my mentor, and I, his new apprentice. He took a step closer to me, ignoring the weight that the rain bore on his shoulders. I could see every muscle in his torso as his shirt clung to him. I saw the blood stains on his side from where I stabbed him. I had to quickly look away in case I remembered the vengeance I swore.

"A year isn't long," he said over the pour of rain. "And I will not force you into things that you aren't comfortable with. Merely observe, that is your responsibility." I didn't answer him. I tried to hide the clouding mist that swarmed my eyes, but it couldn't be done. My head lowered and I took a moment to grieve. I felt Arthur's fingertips against my chin and he lifted my head. I looked to him and he frowned. "Come. It is a long journey to Cheydinhal."

I gave a nod and followed him down the streets. We left the city and he bought me a black steed, his own horse still waiting for him in the stables. It was surprising that he trusted me with such a fine horse, but then I guess he knew I wasn't going to run from him. As we started on the trail, riding until dusk and making camp or finding the seldom Inn for the night, the thought never crossed my mind to leave him. There was something about the way he moved, the determination that blazed in his eyes as we rode, that made Summitmist Manor slowly become a faint memory. After many nights, I stopped having nightmares. And eventually, I slept soundly. The further we traveled across Cyrodiil, the less the guilt weighed down on my shoulders.

With each hoof print we left behind us, I left a piece of myself as well. Something new in me began to grow, something untamed and free. No longer did I feel like a child, but a strong Dunmer woman. We chased the sunrise on this road to ruin and somewhere along the way, as I followed that assassin, I was reborn.

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_**Finally. It is finished. I have this really bad habit of making every story I do never have like a completely 'case-closed' ending. But I like it like that. Let's you have the chance of carrying on the story whatever way you want. I'm so sorry this took me THIS long. Originally, I was going to kill off Valora and make Arthur be just a huge lunatic. But I like this ending much better. Thank you for reading, faving, reviewing, and even flaming. I appreciate every moment of time you give to my work. **_


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